In this nightmare there are no survivors;
every heart beats in vain.
No last words, no bullet proof ideas,
all of our hopes have been betrayed.
Now the world has lost its heart beat;
blank stares pass to the last cell
running towards the point of no return
without a pulse to bring her back.
Screaming to convince the
night that she is not alone,
but in this wind no words will carry.
An audience crowds her from afar
and beneath its dark breath
she is buried.
Gripping each moment
as it passes to the next,
visions of a final
sunset briefly light her closing eyes;
consuming the final flame
to briefly wash one last memory.
When I awoke this morning,
the world was a withering rose,
dried by the pretense of an
ignorance undying.
In the brilliance before the sunrise,
I saw a vision of the world
without a heartbeat,
and my gaze would not be taken.
We must mend our ways, lest
we become the shadows of a past forgotten.
I am no survivor; I am one of them.
