The bottles litter the floor,
and the person before you walks on a balance beam,
a beam that goes up and up but doesn't quite reach the sky.

He will fall as everyone does,
and he will crush you as everyone can,
and you will be trapped under the greed,
chained to the injustice.

You stare ahead, eyes unwavering, as the room sways before the man.
The fists may fly as he previously did and the sound will scatter the unforgiving,
and then finally the sanguine pool runs dry,
but hope clings to you and you to it.

The love runs deep, buried however far down,
and it it isn't there I wish you the best of luck,
for bonds severed are not easily restored.