it's time to go. doors open and the wind pours in. moon looks over the walkers of night. glowing golden like it knows nothing else. the falling leaves mask the footsteps of strangers. the trail shall hold no bounds to what is to come. the grass sways to the gentle rhythm of the wind. giving the dead of night life. the eerie trees loom overhead casting shadows upon the stone ground. movements can be seen under the glow of the moon. coming closer.
death marches onward. stops at no feat. tempted only by it wants. life cannot escape. it carries silence with it and leaves nothing but destruction in its wake. terrible and haunting. cornered by those that seek life, death has fallen upon the cornered. wrapping their decrepit fingers around their thoughts, they try to speak and cry out. only silence can be heard.
fighting for something that may never be again. parents forced to put their children to bed in times of light. lock them away. protect them. keep them safe or try to. discourage them to look upon the wreckage. curious eyes stare. the sirens will not stop. day and night. safe has lost all meaning. closed and continuously locked doors. blinds drawn past daybreak. contact was broken. nothing could be known. red trucks and white vans missing. protecting ones self to postpone the silence.
and the streets ran red with blood.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment