Infamous sea

Dead men always laying waiting on the shore's borderline.
Waiting in the fading sand for their savior to walk on the water.
Reapers watching from the cliff as the flesh rot in their own sympathetic lies.

They have gone so far to save their children from what they have become.
Mothers in their wedding dresses still grow into the dry wood of their homes to be never seen again.
Their own plants of creation dominating them into the colorless earth.

The plague lands are home for the questions with no answers.
Their faceless children carry their ghostly bags full of grain everyday.
No future for them only a past to dream of yet do they know how to rise to an exorcist's call?

So the seas to other worlds stretch so far into the sky while they walk beneath it not swimming in it.
Mining each pint of sand out of their feet to find water when it is the black rain that is calling them.
Justified reaches calls from top to the bottom the white air they breath is so far stretched.

So full of life now drained to the empty chill of bone.
Today we cant see them just hear them in a hollow shell so empty as the soulless sand.
They are drowning in an infamous sea where the watery graves hold their tearing ankles from resurfacing.
To be brought down in history made for a family history of specters.