Massacre


The streets run red with the blood of the innocent.
Children cry - those that are still breathing ...
and cling onto the corpses
of their slaughtered guardians.
Dozens of women lie naked on the concrete,
only moments since they were violated
and drained of life - some of them
have barely stepped onto the path of womanhood.
A stray pup whines and laps at the pooled blood
congealing in the gutters and weaving through
the cracks in the pavement.
Sorrow falls over the city, an unwanted curtain,
enveloping the remaining lives with a horror
that will never cease to haunt them.
They will never be happy again. How could they?
Bombs go off in the distant sky,
as loud as fireworks but slightly less beautiful.
Ashes rain down, coating the bricks and bodies and tar
with another layer of sadness.
Smoke thickens the air as flames devour
the poorest parts of town.
Families scream as they are ripped apart,
and everything they know is destroyed.
Finally, just as the first rays of sunlight
stretch over the horizon,
all is silent - all is still.

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