1Age of a New Dawn
-by Garrett Berg
The dawn breaks upon his face,
His feet shudder, shake
He stares at the sky, blank
Stars vanishing in the light
He grasps his gun with his might
Holds it close, tight
His hands tremble, fright
Blood staining his fingers
His color draining,
His strength small, waning
His will gone, breaking
Where to go? Where to go?
What must he dare
To obtain his passion, care?
His friend dead, despair
What is it worth?
-
He despises his own birth
Cursing the ground, earth
It gave him life, birth
They stole it
What had been their goal?
Was it his spirit, soul?
Was it power, control?
He hated them
They had dictated
What he invented, created
He left, vacated
His feet fled
His friend lay dead
On his natural grave, bed
His eyes empty, soul shed
Gone.
His gun shines in the new dawn
It has started, begun
Nothing will stop him, none
From finding the dawn