As though a last sun closing over the mountain, the red rays, radiating the vacated valleys, and littered alleys all the same.

They are all gone now, but alive, laughing, smiling and playing in the cities, suburbs, and swamps, they think they are still here, but its been so long.

Its okay to dream.

The benefactor of tragic reactions, he made his traction in disastrous scenes, collecting dreams in his sleeves, as he grievously releases them on the next victim.

Victims.

Aren't we all.

...She walked down a long road
rain clouds and grays
concealed the stars
It was dark and cold
Dark
and cold as
her stare
She never went this far before but
the scent of the trail was
too much to resist
She wanted more than
daylight til she was
blinded...
Green are the trees no more
and their silhoutte
embraced the ground
She thought blood is red
under the moonlight but
it was black as uncertainties
and it tasted madness
If only
she could get back
If only she could...
then perhaps
she will see
the sunrise
tomorrow...

It takes great defeat, to cry for victory, and the trickery is now in motion, traversing the air over the oceans in air waves plagued with poetry.

Not a single truth is presented to you, as actors, cameras, and green screens adjust the magnitude of your opinions, and attitudes.

Fix my head, it doesn't care, bring out the dead, but comb their hair, mar the walls with what you found, lift it up, to smash it down.

I am not the man, you are looking for.