Ten Seconds To Touchdown ((Brace yourself))

I brace myself for the impact
of the screaming so soon to begin.
Too much quiet, too much calm,
all good things must end.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Counting down the summer sunsets
where the sky is painted fire.
Every wish on a dandelion,
screams of a hypocritical liar.

Five.

Pray for no deceptions
and a little summer rain.
Here I stand, waiting,
in this cold July, prepared for pain.

Four. Three. Two. One. Touchdown....

**This peace feels false to me**