The Mist

We all walk as if in a maze,

As if we live in a haze.

We are blinded by what we want.

Blinded by all we flaunt.

Few can take the lead.

Few remember what we need.

It seems to be man's fate,

To constantly crave this hate.

Hate has become the newest fashion.

Most have forgotten about compassion.

There are few left,

But the challenge must be met.

We must raise our fist,

And charge through the mist.

We must open their eyes,

So they can see the red skies.