A bomb is born into the sky
Its mother a fighter jet.
Like a falling anvil the bomb rushs towards earth. It is excited to touch dirt.
Tanks are rolled out.
Guns straped to backs.
The iron clad diseal engine of the tank is deafening.
The sound of a gun.
Pow!
Pow!!
Pow!!!
Gut wrenching is the clicking sounds of the heavy iron guns.
Death is watching everyone.
He is waiting.
Watching
the every move.
The bomb hits the ground and death is there looking around in the ruble for any souls who have separated from their body.
A wave of air destroys every thing in its circualar path like a leaf blower.
From the outer radius of the bomb explosion the heat and force are slathered upon everything and everyone like honey barbique sauce.
And death stands in the field like a lone stag looking up to the above.