Watching from Shelter I

Behind ghastly ironic walls,

     Concealed under lucidly surveyed by children's footsteps grounds of old, Cobra headed frost hindered the catastrophes detection for the better unto worst outcome improbable yet possible of a century, Deadly outcome of a bouncing intoxicated turf street Betty renamed Valmara 69, Alias of her anti-personnel explosive(s) no decoy after the obliteration of unnamed targets, Inadvertent not for any profit but progress - synonym for conflict - casualties much like drone in combat under star wars' twilight forlorn skies of radiating crimson... Awaiting the next mourns' vermilion dawn.

     Dear heart strings of fate, Algorithm of choice, Does any (in)human(e) exchange pull your lust(s) back into contention with virtue... How many lives must be lost amidst ignored misery signals of distant to at next home door traumas we channel televised live changed to deny their sorrow in our sad overly vapid no less worthy of breath than Lucifer's serpents existence.

 Lost transmission...