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The Last Bubbles of Air

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The Last Bubbles of Air - Their hands are empty now.

Their hands are empty now, filled once they were
with dreams and joys, in gaps they cannot stir.
Once they were free, but now are in shackles,
and are hounded with unending cackles.
Once happy times now melt into a blur.

The youths are dragged underneath grey liqueur.
Once they’d struggle. Now broken hearts prefer
without the flaming sun and its crackles.
Their hands are empty now.

The whims of the dark ones are used to lure
and in this state, lonely, they can’t endure.
Under the foam, seaweed becomes brambles.
They take a bite from the poisoned apples.
A long time ago, they searched for a cure.
Their hands are empty now.