Ashes in the Streets
Footsteps light upon broken ground,
Cracked and bleeding from glass of broken dreams,
Eyes shedding tears no one can see;
Wind blows gray ashes down this twisted street
Ashes of the fallen, the gentle, the weak.
Burned by self pity, hatred, despair
Their ashes are all that is left of who they could be
Blowing around footsteps
Of those who remember
Better days when the sun shone bright,
The skies were blue where the cardinals sang.
There was no darkness within hearts so pure,
No tears or painful scars
Visible to all, or hidden within.
Misery abounds now in this once happy place,
Red, glaring graffiti on boarded up stores
No one cares enough to fix up and renew.
Streets littered with potholes and cracks all around
Where footsteps tread lightly, making hardly a sound
As blood spills from the cuts and cracks in the souls.
The wind whispers as it sighs, as it blows:
Remember the fallen, those who are gone.
Remember the fallen,
those who are gone.
Don't forget who you are
Or you will become
Like those whom you see;
Ashes in the streets.