Aluu 4

When the mist is gone, And the stitches finished, But wounds not healed, My sub-conscious, painting the scene As I quiver in fear Of the human race. Wake me! Eyes flash, back That unfolded october cold finger, Poking my nerves. Eyes stare in disbelief, And a Jaw sagging beneath, My reach I raised my voice, Half-crying, half-cursing, Murderers! Beasts! Shocked beyond the ordinary. Out of my solitude, Rode my voice, on echoes Telling the wind, Let the pain of faceless Quench my anger. Still no response in return, Leaving me stuck on Why? A naked day of mad fire ... silence.