Who are these sight-starved and smiling madman enthralled by Death?
Blind captains forever mistaking the fires of Hell for the light of the Sun.
I wonder if the First Nations remained optimistic about their future as promises evaporated, leaving behind this salted land; the pale white crust over brown soil.
We recapitulate because it is impossible to see the actions of invisible hands.
Death is the son of Night and Darkness, helicopter parents. To this day, Death never sleeps alone.
Foul captains always forget that their only reward is a participation trophy.