Horizon screams
Like ancient dreams
The blue skies hide in fear
Angry skies
Start to arise
The wrath is drawing near
Almost an art
It tears apart
Our peoples’ daily lives
Like drums, she beats
And floods our streets
Her children sting like knives
Swirling around
Our voices drown
No one to grab our hand
A huddled mass
The hourglass
Reveals the fading sand
C. Derick Miller's Gonzo Journals 
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