You pray for the
voice not to break,
for composure
even though the
pristine walls are
crumbling,
and you see
through facades
into broken hearts,
see sunny days fading
away into war,
into a torn city,
a story  
you don’t
see but drift
towards like a
current meeting  
a person you never
knew but are close
to through blood,
skin, through the
wish to start again.