Comfortably Numb

Echoes

Sitting and waiting,
Master red-baiting,
Hoping my ship will come in.

Who has the courage,
To show some compassion,
Who will cast the first pointy stone.

Mind flayers preach,
From smouldering boxes,
And the pitiful weep just the same.

We are...

Shouting into empty canyons.
Cold,
Still air disturbed by fury,
And wrath.

Nary a thought,
And meaningless.

.