Five days after black and red collide. The motion sickness past, I’ll be the first to stand. Behind that weathered door, I thought it would be safest. My head is dizzy now, I thought we’d overcome. We might not make it home tonight.
Crawling on the ash, she’s pitiful. She lost her sense of light; she has to hold my hand. Had I known we might be two kids without their jackets. My fear would come alive, I wouldn’t loathe her now. She might not make home tonight.