Endtimes

The nations are ruined.
The city streets became canvases for the wind
To paint master pieces, with loose paper and dust.
All representation has been lost.
The people who lived, all that are left,
Tried to make the best of things when the worst had happened.

The smoke was choking us,
But we still stayed in hope that they wouldn't reach us there.
Only, false hope burns like the buildings around us,
And no where seems to far for their powerful arm.
I pressed my hand up to yours,
touching it, but for the glass.
Searching your eyes
Trying to grasp onto anything in them.
I watched powerless as they took you away.
I screamed, I tried to fight for you,
Until their needle pushed me over the rim.

Her love was free.
Boy you'll have to find her.
that girl in a dying world,
Who's eyes leave a trail of tears behind her.