From gold to dust

White and blue.

The colors Given to me at birth.

Colors of a dream, a hope of a people.

White and blue. May from tragedy spring only mirth.

A fluttering heart of joy and faith!

Eyes flicker silver, I was told today is a blank canvas.

A clean page.

The azure above shall not bar us youth,

as we live in the Zionist golden age.

Foil and folly!

Now I am grown yet no longer jolly!

For there is no new page,

nor a golden age.

I committed no crime,

yet the the judge pays no mind.

"You shall go to the cage"

The youth was set free,

as the charges were dropped.

"No public interest" and justice has stopped.

As I breath crystal air, it shatters within.

The abyss dark in my soul, knows this land is not fair.

I look to the sky. What a lie!

Here there is no azure, but a sick flaxen phage.

This land is all grey...

Like the despair market to which we must pay.

We live in the past, and have no tomorrow.

As nothing was left... even today.

A decade has past.

I'm a ghast.

Pale. Hollow. Ashen and haunted.

For within like without...

Nothing could remain. None has last.

Somber day. Not golden, but also not grey.

There was loss, a personal thing.

Out and about so melancholy won't sting.

Then in a moment, my ears started to ring.

A blackened car. Smoke rise from the engine and the chassy now charred.

Pigua. Tragedia. Ason mechoar.

And out of the door, crawled a woman on all four...

No... no four. Crimson exposed at severed thighs.

Scarlet across black tarmac and to crawl she tries.

All are screaming. All cry and lost.

And my face anemic and milky.

For I know...

I am looking at a ghost.

"You ring for blue cops! And you star of David of red!"

I am all shaken up, yet there's no time for dread.

Create a parameter, keep bystanders away.

"May actual heroes come in my stead". So I pray...

And then snuck a thought. That in time make me rot.

I stand cold as bleached ice, eyes dart from window to sill.

There may still be a sniper, waiting silent and still.

More years have past.

Now in Europe.

In the world that is vast.

Yet nothing has changed.

The trauma did last...

The sniper's still there. Under shadow he lurks.

Silver eye shine now opaque.

Faith in golden age a mistake.

I know that justice is fake.

My color has no blue, just the white.

Of the ashened soul that did break.

And remains the bomb made black. and her thighs resemling raw steak.

Some one help me for love of god's sake!

But there isn't salvation.

Just isolation, exploitation and systematic manipulation.

And the sniper is there. He too never left.

And in the panic and fear something rises,

of my soul left bereft.

My vision grows red. I am scared.

Fight or flight.

Or you could be dead.

There is no blackened car, and no sniper atop.

Yet I feel they are there!

I'm in pain! Make it stop!

In my body a fire. A bright flaming pyre!

My muscles pulsate.

You must fight! Must survive!

My suffix shall not be "the late"!

It grips and it tears. For the target's transparent.

And what's this? Now my home is on fire.

Please help.

I am no longer coherent.