1 May 2012
Footprints in the sand, fading into dust. Missiles overhead, snipers take their aim; Blindly scrabbling for help, who to trust? After this, life would never be the same. As he cooked his frag, aiming for nowhere, He spotted a glint, and feared for the worst. He saw it approaching, slicing through the air. His life crumbled away as his heart burst.
Footprints in the sand, fading into dust. What they would give for one chance to apologise. This abomination, lives turning to rust. If you ever saw, you would realise The distinct horror of this huge tragedy; This wasn’t chaos, it was World War Three.
Footprints In The Sand • Opuss № I