Hearts, In a Cold Case Box

Waiting for a thought, an image or something; anything.... To jump start this heart; dead on arrival ? Sounds so familier As sorting through life's dumpster a rag doll, baby hope; discarded While time unwinds it's same old songs; composed of dispair her mother Children themselves seeking dreams beyound these tears; another cold case Text in abstract art ? Wearing rose coloured glasses be his conqueror worm; gray Spectacle requiems mounting summits to embed their dire; dividing the spoils.. Gifts these gods; obscure, burning pages torn from pyres ? Historic's, white sheets Draped an oblong box; adorned of black italic lines; criss cross, her corpse this state ? Flesh bone as blood waiting for a thought, his rag dolls; cankerous sores blue lips; broken.