This can't be the truth.
Consequences that should have been taken,
Realities that should have been dealt with,
all vanished, as if they were never real.
Was it all, really, juts a dream?
Was it all just some figment of my over worried imagination
trying to figure this out?
No, it couldn't have been; I can still feel the tension even now,
Waiting like a coiled spring.
But why has there been no guilty verdict?
Why have those who cannot face the truth been shown its harsh light?
Why did we not the menace before it's long gone.
....But maybe there was never any hope in the first place,
Maybe fate, that twisted card dealer, had stacked the deck in his favor before we even chanced a look at our hands.
Or maybe, now is not the time for the turnabout.
So it waits, in the shadows; waiting for the time to strike.
The time when none of us will be ready.
But maybe that time is near, for am i the only one who remembers what our goal was, what it is we set out to do?
Lives, chances, a