Over there, in the year of dystopia

there was a group

There was the young fire

that burned souls alive

mr shadow

who drew thorns in the dark and smiled in the daylight

Mr. rhymes

that awakened minds and spirits with his creations

Don sunset

who painted deep landscapes and beautiful words with the sun

and the young priestess

who wrote her prophecies so that nothing would be lost

The year of the dystopia was also a little apocalypse

well it was several apocalypse compressed

everyone had their end of the world

because everything exploded:

the bones, the meats, the desires, the loves, the livers, the decisions

and this group set out to rebel against fate

they wanted to survive

using their gadgets and talents

The young fire cried seas of lava

burned sadness

Mr. Shadow collected the thorns that he was taking out

he transformed them into weapons

lord rhymes summoned urban spirits for battle

Don Sunset designed the most beautiful shelters to rest after the war

the young priestess detailed in her papyri the exploits of her companions

so that future memory will never fail

And they fought

they gave a lot, almost everything

until I am under heavy rubble

their chest was tight

the air in his lungs was gradually disappearing

made them cry in pain

then, they ran their hands through the remains as best they could

trying to catch up with his peers

and they shook hands

Thus they gathered enough strength to fulfill the dream they had longed for so much:

survive their apocalypse

With the last vestiges of life

they breathed as they could

so together they rose from the ashes and made art