It all started with the old cars hidden in the woods,

Daredevil teens rampaging the metallic graveyard,

Before a group of kids fell before it,

Creaking and dry joints screaming for oil,

An imaginative teleportation device,

A place where rust meets blood.

Children to teens,

The daredevils before them slowly coursing through their blood, spilling out of their scraped knees.

A group of too old youts with cigarettes in their mouths, burns on the innerside of their arms, their knuckles bruised, meeting the boys of youth.

Both youthfulness fighting for a cause unknown,

Their lips split for reasons irrelevant.

The rusting ghouls creaking like the knees of their concerned parents.

A boy falls,

Their head resting on the hood of a fading truck, metal piercing.

Resting forever on.

Scrambling, screaming, silence.

It all started with the old cars hidden in the woods…