The Desert Cannot Answer

January 9, 2010
The dust flies into the fog
As their paws race across the sand
In the morbid sky
The laughing moon shimmers
Leading their endless chase
Behind them, gunshots ring
In loud wails of protests
Once in a while
The lead finds a innocent target
Mist made of rubies dances upwards
And the sand soaks up
The liquid of life
They do not stop
To help their fallen comrades
For death awaits them if they pause
So they run
For their lives they don't want
And ask the creator
Is this a blessing
Or a curse?

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