In the darkness of

the field

where the blood

meets the mud

the half-life of

screams

rings the quiet

 

The states fell then and

the state fails now and

the marchers are itching

for fighting

 

The sickness below

shakes the heavens above

enraging the meek and the giant

 

They were falling from the sky

falling from the sky

the tears of the angels defiant

falling from the sky

falling from the sky

but the deluge was

hidden and silent

 

The wrinkled old man

hat in his hand

surveys the remnants of battle

The pampered old man

pen in his hand

sees nothing he cannot dismantle

 

The sickness below

compels the heavens above

send a signal to

raise the compliant

 

There were ghosts of the

fallen and

suicide stars

and marchers

just itching for fighting

 

They were falling from the sky

falling from the sky

bodies discharged from their courses

falling from the sky

falling from the sky

a mission

to shame the remorseless.

 

–Danny Grosso