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.

The normal.

 

From the top they only watch

deceiving us

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.