Try as she mustered,
There’s no weeding out fakes,
Staring into darkness,
Blueness descends on those awake.

She sleepwalks through morning,
Slumped over her muddled desk,
The collapsing red giant,
Setting in the west.

A faded white circle,
Is her remembrance of hope,
Glue residue – a sticky reminder,
Peeling off her tear stained coat.

A pariah in the canteen,
She holds her resentful breath,
The smell of history forming,
Is the stench of hope’s death.