Written by Adam M. Snow
Deep into a dying day,
I took a step outside
and as the hours slip away,
I see the world divide.
Falling fast to unseen wars,
they lock away a child's heart.
That will settle like ashes and scores,
their path was narrow and apart.
They stood there, painted red;
their faces towards the horizon,
in hopes to fit in with the dead,
that which is old and wizen.
They march, not knowing their endeavor;
a journey down an endless spiral.
A ghost of the past forever,
trapped in their lies, now viral.
Their clocks ticking ever faster,
they long for misery and dread.
What they do brings disaster,
in a world, painted red.