Grey skies loom
Street lights bloom
The roads are dead
A car’s on fire
But the flames don’t move
Is it all in my head?

Houses with broken windows
Boarded up shops
A town once in motion
But has since stopped
Shards of glass still cover the sky
Am I alone?

I turn the corner
A grey room on a hill
Surrounded by concrete walls
Protected from the dead
A small pillar of life
Will it always remain?

Here are my friends
But also some foes
They stand on this hill
Within these walls
Loitering around
Looking at the ground
Even in this dead world I am not at peace

I enter the grey room
This is my home
A cold, yet comfy place
Tarnished by their disgrace
Everything is mine
Until the end of time
I rest here hoping things will be fine

A bag hangs from the wall
Inside, a rifle
The beautiful walnut stock
A glimpse into the once colourful past
The world that once was full of treasures like this
Where this splash of colour was taken for granted
Those times are gone

I hear someone come in
She calls my name
I turn around
A spectre? She shouldn’t be here
She places her hands on my cheeks
I thought she was dead