A feather rose in the dust,
dust that speckled the scene
The feather sat on a soul
softly weeping, tired.
Tired, because it would never stop
the din, the blood, the massacre
The massacre of innocents
Tied to their fateful destiny
The soul gasped a sigh
of anger, of relief
Anger, because it would never stop
Relief from the din, blood, massacre
As I close my eyes,
I struggle to see it one last time
The colours are the hardest to fight,
flashing right in front of me
The graphic is so vivid
Yet, it happens miles away
I can see it with eyes closed,
'cause I already have, several times
Will it finally stop?
Will all the souls stop gasping
However, it never will,
Until the earth's soul finally gasps.
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