They came before the sundown, a gentle multitude, Through rain-swept ground, without a sound, they mildly passed by The time had finally come, they knew, when each among them should Forgo their darkened shelter; venture out beneath the sky. All they sought was sustenance and each one moved in peace A world apart; to each its heart, to each its beating breath. Not a moment did they falter; not an instant did they cease The first one never saw the wind that heralded his death. It started on the puddled ground, beneath the setting sun A holocaust of car exhaust as brutal boots crashed down And all the broken figures of all those too slow to run Smashed into a frieze of suffering; convoluted on the ground. And everywhere the eye beheld a multitude of slain, On every road and sidewalk strewn with snails after rain.