Dusty Rouge

The first city on Mars

Dusty we call our city, not for nothing 

But from the tops of the metal spires  

It doesn't look dusty at all 

Rouge like the sky, stretched over  

The shimmer of souls shedding skins 

Of crimson light from radiant bodies 

At night the streets of our city are streaked 

With shadows, deft fingers that  

Claw at passerby, prying at our secrets 

Our pain, without judgment 

And when the sun hits us at dawn 

From just above the distant peaks  

Heavy beams of light cascade  

Through tight alleys 

Illuminating our way  

Our city is a crucible; 

A kiln that stokes the flames of our spirit 

And hardens our exterior like glass armor  

If we aren't careful, we may shatter 

Into a thousand tiny cuts

Bleeding red sand