A new reality, there inside my mind, whispers in the wind, a new secondary life, swept among the rapids of society, tossed away, thrown away, giving up on, freedom is just a phase.
2029 - All human life is estranged.
"Where are we now?" cried the masses, one by one, trying to see out of the train.
There were no answers.
"We the people..."
We are machines, plowing through the dirt, the earth, to return to that earth, someday.
We all fear that day, constantly looking over our shoulders, marching to that end, step by step, the wind blowing into our face, slowing our ventures.
"March!" the guns pressed into our back.
There, into the Grace of God, we go, to line up against that wall, our shame, our blood, to be spilled on the ground, shot down as animals, to hear that last roar, the bullets ripping into our flesh, we are called dogs, we are called animals, but still we stand tall.
We feared that this day would come soon.
We were warned that it would come soon.
But we dared not listen, to fear, that end, to slip into the sweet waters and drown our fears, to be held by that river's embrace, no man could harm us, no man dared.
None of God's children could be slaves.
We were free.
We could not be sad here, in this place, a refuge from the cursed war, but here, we stood, against a hard, cutting wall, the soldiers, glaring, sneering, their rifles raised.
This was the end.
"Ready..."
The Sargent called out.
Some of us cried.
Some closed their eyes; to hope and pray, to wake from this nightmare.
Others held their heads high.
"We shall meet again..." old men said, trying to calm the others.
"Aim..."
The end was close; near, our blood, oh God, save us from this fear.
"Soon!" a voice said, there, in our mind.
"Fire!"
And in that word, we heard the shots fired and then nothing...
