The Enemy

The day passes sudden as the moon takes its flight and I wonder where time could've gone. And even though day still succombs to the night, the peace has yet to dawn. Suspicions rise within our eyes when there's no one left to blame. We cloud our minds with blatent lies, and judge them all the same. But as we sit with fear in our hearts and wonder what's ahead, abroad they hide, scared to die, drowning in the red. Why can't we see that although we have suffered tragic death, they feel the same undoubted pain with every final breath?