Cold hands outstretched before them searching for signs of life.
Houses looted and destroyed.
The world is no longer ours.
They cannot be stopped or placated by entreaties.
Life without life. Death without death.
Warm hands clutching weapons and searching for signs of life.
Things men made lay rusting, ruined.
Wandering aimless through the hollow shell of a burned out city.
We had our chance and we blew it.
Maybe it's better this way.
all rights reserved