distorted skies;
opaque waves;
we bang on the glass panes
on the screens of half-truths
.

let us have a sight;
of clouds, our souls painted
tarnished and tainted.
.

let us have our chalks white
and boards black;
the duster you keep
tumbling, fumbling on the stairs
How long, how long?
.

the rage is reckoning
the pride is beckoning
the sabres are rattling glass panes;
your facade looks on upon;
our eyes screaming.