by Casalan

Created on: January 11, 2009

Grey debris clouds tone the sky,

visible through day and night.

The dense aroma of rock and ash

and machinery going 'bump' and 'crash'.

The stillest wind before the storm,

a place where hope and fear is born.

The children wont look overhead,

they only dream to die in bed.

Awaiting thunder and sonic booms,

faces gloom appending doom.

The sky it whistles an evil song,

The man-made quake wont take too long.

A mother wants to kill herself,

before her world comes crashing down.

To outlive her children is insane,

speechless, there's nothing more to say.

The jets they took her world away,

all she could do was hope and pray.

Although tomorrow's another day,

it still feels like a lifetime away.

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