Who?

The morning dew,

they applauded the morning sun -

preparing for the worst.

Blood. Hope. The end.

"Smile", she said.

Betrayal pauses for awhile.

Consideration. Consideration.

Who?

The petals tinted the greasy apparatus, 

responsible for this unhumorous humour - 

that they played with each day.

Death.

"Death?"

Who?

Bring out the big guns - 

she's out.

Resist the button.

1. 2. 3.

Fire. Press.

Gone.

In. Out.

We'll find a way.

You and me?

Who?