Flakes of ash flutter in the streets,
catching In your throat.
Leaving you sputtering, gasping for air
with the flames licking at the crumbling
Buildings, like eager children and lollipops.
Rake through the rubble for
something from your past. The
stale stench of urine stained mattresses
greets your nose like an old foe.
Catapulting the breath from your lungs,
you stumble. Dazed and dizzy.
Bare bodies of the neighborhood kids
bare bruises and gashes across their
backs and chests.
Brandishing a billiard stick as your
only defense. The cries and pleas
from the women dragged by their hair
haunt what little sleep you manage.
Cross the cobblestone street in
search of refuge and something to eat.
Nothing but smashed pumpkin brains
sprawled across the way.