Captive Audience - 2012/08/12

Lances swords and knives abound
Slicing would be bearers asunder
All whom now bleed out leisurely
Totally unaware of their blunder

A trickle of it becomes a puddle
Then the puddle becomes an ocean
While unlucky ones trapped within
Begin to suffocate in slow motion

Sunbursts ravage dying starlight
Haughty chuckles echo throughout
For we are merely cold observers
Lacking any control or any clout

Observe for this is how it ends
Not with the bang but a whimper
For the gallery of the soulless
Cannot be bothered to even stir

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