Put your hands up,
try and keep a straight face,
but it will never break our fall.
Isn't there a town over there?
Why are children climbing up walls?
You said, eventually we'll lose them all.
You're a reflection of me,
bright, weary and impossibly lost,
sewing sour sentiments
into a doleful flag.
You said, the sad was only
a reciprocity of rain,
but it didn't break our fall,
didn't save our town.
The sign says: 'stay away from here',
a sheltered kiss then
to remember us by,
while nearby, someone drowns
in the clear blue water.
Sometimes the cruelest part
of tragedy is its proximity to hope.
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 6:09 PM UTC
Put your hands up,
try and keep a straight face,
but it will never break our fall.
Isn't there a town over there?
Why are children climbing up walls?
You said, eventually we'll lose them all.
You're a reflection of me,
bright, weary and impossibly lost,
sewing sour sentiments
into a doleful flag.
You said, the sad was only
a reciprocity of rain,
but it didn't break our fall,
didn't save our town.
The sign says: 'stay away from here',
a sheltered kiss then
to remember us by,
while nearby, someone drowns
in the clear blue water.
Sometimes the cruelest part
of tragedy is its proximity to hope.
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