Blood marks the road Where the animal left its life behind, In a red stain That the rain will wash away. Fall of night foretold, Sky colors like a bruise, And I think of ones I used to know and Of paths they had to choose. For we are born and we remain forever Trapped inside our heads. No human chords are struck Without a resonance in other lives, But the echoes we hold onto seem As arbitrary as the times. For we are born and will remain.