Can light be firm?
Can yellowed, ray,
Cut through darkness,
Like a blade to clay?
Or does the black of night,
Like the deepest well,
Soak up light,
A sponge of hell,
Drawing down, from up above,
Roaring in, from the East it came.
An ill wind, that will ever remain,
carrying a virus, no plan in mind
except the destruction of today's mankind.
Ill prepare were those left in charge
to face the attack and heavy barrage,
attacking all without reason or rage.
preying on those who were of old age.