Abattoir

Scattered like a scared herd
Stampeding the earth
Kicking up clouds of dust
Into the dry air.

A sense of looming doom
Towers over us
Like the eyes of heaven
If it's balconies were overrun

Overwhelmed at every angle
We are fatigued and drugged
Into disgruntled submission
Quietly, nervously awaiting

A sense of foreboding
Or overly anxious nerves
Meet the breaking silence
Hearing indignant bellows.

Chaotically, we march to our deaths
With no particular order,
But the bodies are numbered.
Here, we fall, one by one.