Grim Faces

Heads down, eyes rolling,
They write verses of change
on the bloodied pages
of a tattered newspaper.

Senses drilling, mind spiralling,
They read scripts of violence
on the verdure-laden fields
of a distant meadow.

Hands shaking, limbs loose,
They think of azure skies
on the disappearing horizons
of unkempt humanity.

Faces grim, smiles absent,
They wonder about colourful springs
on the brink of revolution
against void hopelessness.