With the haze of the day
Hanging low over our heads,
Cracks of sunlight
Attempting to penetrate
Create an eerie glow on our faces and hands,
And unwelcome mirages, cast on the walls of broken down buildings;
Dim, but blinding.

We can no longer stand
Seeking solace on the sidewalk
We stare downward at the asphalt,
Cracked and worn

The trees around us have burnt to the ground
Merely ashes among a brown, barren wasteland
Fine white powder still remains
From the deafening blast.

We won’t go on.
We will choke
On the noxious, putrid stench
Of human evil.

And we will expire
In a shroud of echoes,
The demons of our existence.

02/11/2006

Posted on 02/12/2006
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