the victory queen

flowers cut to a thin line. the roots held tight with mechanical wires. as the sun reigns the air raid sirens, the bombs were cut to thin out each design. im choked as i wish this never happened to me. with our hearts torn to ashes, vague is the color written on this photograph. fires found fourth at the end of every street. speaking trees talk in the breeze as their burned because of love and death. how could this be that in our minds we were never free. all wires tripped with casualties. from a thousand eyes no one would even do a thing. we were drinking while we were dying. kerosene filled flowers planted at the graveyards. there was no time to celebrate because each victory was a minor improvement. from the skys that turned to waves, the bombs fell at each parade setting all hearts ablaze. she sings to the sounds of gunfire and the drums will beat harder. when everything is burnt she will be the only one left singing and dancing. the enemy builds flags for riots and the glares from our eyes. her lips kiss the fire. she lights all the torches around us. singing "we can win this one out, we'll light all the fires, burn the streets with laughter, they will die in their sleeps and the morning wont come. because ive seen the end of the world. its almost as pretty as death. when we all can sing."