A battleground
The enemy; the state
As tanks lined the street ways
In the dark of the night
Like gasoline
Coating skin
Matches in a hostile hand
Suffocating; breathless
As poison exuberates
The sewer lines
The dirt; the grunge
The sunlight
Its first stream of rise
Golden on the alleyways
Where fear reverberates and strives
Like radiation seeping through
The walls
Filling the empty space
Until it bursts and fills
The residents  
Hallow; shallow souls
The people fill the town
From outside their wooden doors
And pour into menacing streets
With the lies promising in their eyes
Foreboding air fills their lungs
Like innocence and love
They look into the barrels
Of guns made out of steel
Silver shinning in the dawn light
The sleek shiver down their spines
The taste of ammunition
Like liquid on their tongues
They cling to one another
Like smoke to its flame
The ash of propaganda
A fire extinguishing their pain