The face of a clock stares out over the crowd,
Seemingly unmoving
A thousand breaths puff into the icy sky,
A thousand hearts race towards their end
An infinitely hated voice issues from unseen speakers,
Falling upon deaf ears
Men stand around them in the plaza,
Awaiting a command from their tyrannical leader
Somewhere in the middle of the silent crowd,
A young boy begins to softly cry
Somewhere in the dark heavens,
A bird’s piercing cry echoes
The leaders’ voice takes on a new tone,
Ending in the final condemnation
A hundred guns level towards the frozen people
Tears glint in hopeless eyes
nobody noticed an old solder wipe his own tears away
The voice ends, echoing into silence
A hundred guns fire simultaneously
Dead silence follows the last sharp rapport
A thousand lay in the snow-covered plaza,
Sentenced to death for one man’s insanity
The young boy cried no more.