Bones steeped in storms
Feel them coming,
Past terrors remembered
In recesses of marrow.
There's no safety
Behind stone walls of homes, either;
Nor compassion for tears of children
Nor weary backs of old men
Who try to protect them.
Little ones hide fears in the cellar
Or deep in down pillows,
Drowning howling to low murmurs
While weary souls stare into eyes
Of the devil, bracing for battles
Never won, but survived
'Till sun shines once more,
Sweeping up pieces of life
As always, come morning,
When smiles and breakfast
Hide destruction
Of the night before.