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?
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