Blood marks the road
Where the animal left its life behind,
In a red stain
That the rain will wash away.
Fall of night foretold,
Sky colors like a bruise,
And I think of ones I used to know and
Of paths they had to choose.
For we are born and we remain forever
Trapped inside our heads.
No human chords are struck
Without a resonance in other lives,
But the echoes we hold onto seem
As arbitrary as the times.
For we are born and will remain.