Unsun

What was best, was fiercely crushed.
They killed the dreams, and now they are gone.
Sneering smiles, mocking looks
Pointing out sins they hide in their nooks.
The bloodthirsty band creeps out of the murk,
The gun of sharp words on the verge of the dark,
To vanish off our tainted hearts,
All that we saved torn apart.
How can they know that thanks to their mumble
They turn into gold - the defeat of the crumble?
These shadowless men, how can they know
The power of the scorned
Is letting dreams go?