You almost bleed your smiles these days,

Like acting out a tiny death;

Though your pinched faces still resist,

You have to measure every breath.

 

I notice, each time that you cry,

Your tears no longer flow, they spill.

Do those inflicting this foul mess

Consider what they really kill?

 

I see you trying to join in fun,

Whenever someone makes a joke,

But laughter seems unkind and cold

Amidst the flames and belching smoke.

 

Yet somehow your raw, bloodied smiles

Shine out like beacons in the gloom,

As this dark haven’s huddled crowds

Resolve it shall not be their tomb.