The unquiet grows.
A neon sign
hides an antiquated long forgotten home.
But the residents of the home do not disappear
They exist
As an island
And can see the mainland, all the time
The bright lights from the mainland are blinding them
But slowly, their bespectacled eyes focus,
Awaken with new sight
They are starting to believe in the apparitions around them.
These phantoms are their new God
There to bring them out from behind the curtain.
And so,
they start out with knuckle-dusters
and mashaals ablaze,
to break down the sign.
This is their 'Rights of Passage'.
The flame reaches for the heaven,
Proudly proclaiming the start of a new war,
It will burn all believes
And die a clichéd death
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