The flag whipped against the howling void, Red streaked with dreams it could no longer bear. Snow powdered the bones of a forgotten station, Where a soldier stood— Eyes obscured, spirit fractured— The future bleeding frost through mirrored lenses.
The car burned crimson against the whitened earth, An ark for lost pilgrims, Rust-cheeked steel carrying promises to nowhere. It sat idle, engine ticking like a dying clock, As the stars above — pale and indifferent — Refused to fall.
America lay quiet — Banners torn, voices silenced, Her anthem buried in the snowdrift. And somewhere far beyond the wreckage, The road coughed its last.
Where do the fearless go When the flag waves, But no one marches?
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