Meet Me At St Louis
“Where are they?”
Blood drips from the very walls onto broken things….
“where oh where do they hide from my eyes?”
Broken window frames, door frames, furniture frames, human frames….
“I am not complete, where are they?”
Blood pools in the dented dirt floor, reflecting…
“I can not find them, Father help me?”
Reflecting the shattered glass, reflecting a lone figure despite his companion…
“The shadows, took him and my Cufflinks must have followed.”