These days
every game
is high stakes.
Every face
wears the pain
of our mistakes.
This place
is the same
as the next place.
Apocalyptic skies;
no escape.
So hard not to feel
oppressed under this
oppressive daylight.
So hard not to be
depressed during this
deep dive into night.
Lies strangle out the truth,
like vines that have taken root
in minds we used to look up to,
but now, we can’t believe their proof.
The world burns,
but this is known
as a burning season.
Reason used to be our being,
until everything became
unreasonable.
Apocalyptic skies,
our eyes die
and we turn miserable.
I hear
the fear in every voice.
I hear
music in the noise.
Trumpets
calling us out,
to ready ourselves, now.
The time to join the game
draws nigh.
Under apocalyptic skies.
No one’s getting
out of here
alive,
but we are built
to survive.
So let the days come
as they might.
As long as we breathe,
we will fight.
A burning world
will set our souls alight,
under these
apocalyptic skies.
HG – 2021
