Dead boy, take him alone to the foreign infernos.

            Take him by the end through the

desert; his eyes blinded by rifting sands

            Grab his hand and place a melting black

weapon into his palms.

Dead girl, take her alone to the illusion.

            Take her to the lowest and tell her

beauty is attainable

            Grab her and raise her hand to her

head; shield her from the sun.

Dead America, take us to that promised land.

            The ones that we were promised so long

ago; tell us we're still free.

            Prisoners without chains; bound by imaginary

promises. Are the dreams still real?

Dead boy, dead girl take your hands together.

            Let down your weapons; call your illusions

false; break free from imaginary bondage.

            Tell them all the truth.

Dylan Brennan

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