Pouring everyone's tea,
she steps outside today
watching, listening behind the chirps.
Behind the flying remants of peace
there was a fall conquering nature
allowed of ones choosing to die everyday.
Dying to live, yet unaware of how to do so.
Unaware, clouded by the smoke
or perhaps only filled of cynicism.
Or smoke filling them of cynical beliefs.
She looked to her right
a boy walking down immediately turns away
fearful of one another, no unity.
Surviving to die-
She looked to her left
another leaves home,
only thinking of her day's itinerary.
Dying to survive-
Just another day
distant screaming, internal crying.
From the top they only watch
as we grieve for what could have been.
With everyone gone
only sorrow stands by
with a future uncertain.
I come back to cold tea
how forgetful of me.
This tea is now sorrow's.