They came when the lights fell, Stacked high like dead promises, Grinning through masks no one asked for. A procession of cardboard saints, Painted faces screaming through quiet streets, No horns, no music— Just the hum of a world long abandoned. The car, rusted and bloated, Hauled their ghostly cargo Into a night that forgot itself. And the moon watched, Draped in yellow clouds— Laughing quietly, As the wheels turned once more.