Ashes
Ashes of burned dreams trickle from the sky
Like snow on an early January morning
Covering hands and faces in a hopeless grey
As tears blend with dust and the scream for justice gets louder
Justice is such an unpleasant word
In a world with more walls than bridges
With more fists than helping hands
In a world where hate has found a place to grow
Because many people have no other seeds to offer