I look up to a clouded sky
filled with dragons.
Its once bleak, pale
rolls of imprisoned rain,
now illuminated in
strikes of red gold and
yellow.
a flighty beast that
rules the empty space above,
it looks down in pity
to our shameful selves.
We do not run,
no
we are too afraid to run,
instead we cower,
and cry mercy,
though we deserve none.
So we die exactly the way
we were born,
screaming
afraid
and blind to the truth of life.