The hollow shells of buildings cower and quake in fear,
skillfully, with shame shaken hands I raise my gun,
my fingers shake, the killing machine rattling in my hands,
I look up, the smoke filled sky glaring down at me.
I wonder of the people who once lived here,
of the bombs dropped upon their roofs,
My body racked with guilt as I stare,
blood trickles down a shattered window pane.
A burning smell fills my nostrils,
I hear cry's, screams of pain and desperation,
A tear rolls down my cheek like a droplet of crimson blood,
the shame and melancholy distress flooding my being.
Rubble surrounds were I stand,
I fall to my knees, the gun slipping from my grasp,
I cry out to the sky, at the top of my lungs.
I can smell gas...
... the thick yellow smoke rushing towards me,
I choke; spluttering out pain filled screams,
my life, a shameful, disintegrated nothing...
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
The hollow shells of buildings cower and quake in fear,
skillfully, with shame shaken hands I raise my gun,
my fingers shake, the killing machine rattling in my hands,
I look up, the smoke filled sky glaring down at me.
I wonder of the people who once lived here,
of the bombs dropped upon their roofs,
My body racked with guilt as I stare,
blood trickles down a shattered window pane.
A burning smell fills my nostrils,
I hear cry's, screams of pain and desperation,
A tear rolls down my cheek like a droplet of crimson blood,
the shame and melancholy distress flooding my being.
Rubble surrounds were I stand,
I fall to my knees, the gun slipping from my grasp,
I cry out to the sky, at the top of my lungs.
I can smell gas...
... the thick yellow smoke rushing towards me,
I choke; spluttering out pain filled screams,
my life, a shameful, disintegrated nothing...
Request permission to use this poem