The Sanctuary

The bed creaks, and the pen scratches

Awake still, the clock forever changing

Gently lies the saber of fellowship

In rows like soldiers, the novels of the past stand

Dangling off the wall, the way the world should be

Hung lay the caps of gentlemen

The blue outlines, to worlds wearable and escapable

The grey calmly contains the treasures hoarded

The green hovers above with only the sky as its master

The red  strikes at all 

Bleeding through my eyes into my dreams

The saber gleams with crimson

The novels are stained with regret

 The way the world should be torn

Covered are the caps

The blue choked

The grey stabbed

The green coughs

The sanctuary is broken at night

Those who were free 

Now shackled in scarlet and memories