The Lonely Weed
The world burns,
The hungry yearns,
For a morsel of change,
In this new land strange.
Where the sky bleeds red,
And life lies solemnly in death's bed.
Where men watch but do not see,
And freedom is scarce while agony free.
Kids do not play hide and seek,
Racing for numbers to reach the peak.
This land works in mysterious ways,
The dead is immortal while the living strays.
Color has been stripped off almost entirely,
Save for a lone weed from an era lived priorly.
Against all odds it emerges from the earth,
Reaching towards the sky amongst the dearth.
It dances to the winds unaware,
Luring in an entrancing snare.
"Who are you?", someone wails,
"Hope!", it echoes through the vales.
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