Status: Characters belong to Victor Hugo.
Painted Red
Painted Red
I took your hand, and you promised it would be alright.
Midnight in the city is all smoke and neon lights. Painful to the eyes, overwhelming to the senses. But I concentrate on the warm fingers entwined with mine and suddenly it doesn’t matter whether everything makes sense. This- this thing, right now- it is real. No flashy failures, no crumbling dreams, no turning of the clock, nothing can ever change that.
I took your hand, and we promised that we would fight.
There’s fire in our veins and purpose pumping in our hearts. We sing our anthem strong for those who can do naught but whisper. Our prayer: let the light of our words, the silver flame of truth, cut down the shadows of injustice and inequality. Let love prevail, for love is pure, against those who would take shelter in greed. Let our flames burn down their stronghold.
I took your hand, and you promised we would make it through.
Darkness around and darkness below. In the night we huddle, weakened by the shadows’ cold. Yet the stars whisper that there is dawn, and so we shall see it come. We will see the light eternal rise where we could not.
I took your hand, and I promised I would not forget you.
Fury in your dark blue eyes. Fire in the gold of your hair. A beacon for the weak, for the poor, for the lost and forgotten and condemned. My last image of you will be my banner. Blue, for your eyes. Gold, for your hair. And red, for your flag and your blood, abandoned by those too tired to care.
Midnight in the city is all smoke and neon lights. Painful to the eyes, overwhelming to the senses. But I concentrate on the warm fingers entwined with mine and suddenly it doesn’t matter whether everything makes sense. This- this thing, right now- it is real. No flashy failures, no crumbling dreams, no turning of the clock, nothing can ever change that.
I took your hand, and we promised that we would fight.
There’s fire in our veins and purpose pumping in our hearts. We sing our anthem strong for those who can do naught but whisper. Our prayer: let the light of our words, the silver flame of truth, cut down the shadows of injustice and inequality. Let love prevail, for love is pure, against those who would take shelter in greed. Let our flames burn down their stronghold.
I took your hand, and you promised we would make it through.
Darkness around and darkness below. In the night we huddle, weakened by the shadows’ cold. Yet the stars whisper that there is dawn, and so we shall see it come. We will see the light eternal rise where we could not.
I took your hand, and I promised I would not forget you.
Fury in your dark blue eyes. Fire in the gold of your hair. A beacon for the weak, for the poor, for the lost and forgotten and condemned. My last image of you will be my banner. Blue, for your eyes. Gold, for your hair. And red, for your flag and your blood, abandoned by those too tired to care.