Red is left throughout the club
A rising sun writes a check for a new day that some can't cash
Sickened by someone who thinks they get a trophy of sparkly yellow for accomplishing this
horror
The victims green leaves deprived of sun, falling off trees to be crunched under boot
Below the skies where they rise whether it's to a god or an atmosphere their intangible soul
dissipates into
Those who survive go on with purple bruises on skin and in heart
That heart, beaten and limping
pump to pump
Those left after the rain tasked with becoming activists just because they still have a pulse