Panic is Survival
Wasn't every day doomsday?
Panic fueled the blue-green globe,
Teeming, originating out of sheer survival,
Yet viability trumps parallel to conflageration,
Oil and water never settle their differences.
Rusty regolith creeps in crevices on Hawkins underside,
Fresh prints linger crisp blood-red snow,
So long as marks made here left less impression,
Than the ones pressed into Earth so deep,
Introduces balance on a fresh new home,
Exquisite equilibrium medially distress and endurance.