The white bricks stand ominously
against the sobbing sky.
Lightning licks the air
with its fiery tongue.
I sit on the hill and observe.
I look at the determined performers,
desperate to save the, and.
I look at the weak.
They expended their might
attempting to rescue the, and.
I look at the oblivious.
Foreign to the tragedy,
carrying on with and without the, and.
I look at those seated with me.
My friends, scanning the horizon.
We are clouds.
It is midnight inside the wall.
The sun sets behind us
and casts our shadows upon the wall.
I plead with the star,
begging it not to fall from its heavenly perch
and plunge us into the icy black water.
It says no, and the pendulum slips further still towards us.
But perhaps it will destroy the wall, before it can crush us.
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