Blindfolded

Walking purposely in a crowded room,

No destination,

Only a terrible goal.

Her bright pink shirt a contrast against waves of gray.

Crowd pressed together with no color at all,

Not a clear black and white,

A crowd blanketed in dull lifelessness.

Her pink shirt ruffled from brushing against so many sleeves,

While she walks among the crowd time is ticking in her hand.

There were no names,

No faces in the crowd.

She held death in her hand,

Waiting as sands fell.

She is love and love has pulled the pin,

Love walking through a faceless crowd holding a hand grenade,

Love will find someone,

Its only a matter of time.