It starts with a few simple words of ignorance and intolerance.
Whispered from one person to the next.
Ignorant minds letting intolerant ideas overcome them,
and burden their minds.
Then the rumbles that come in the middle of the night.
Shaking the house to its core,
and waking the nearby souls.
their shouts of fear and worry echo off the cold stone walls of their dying city.
The sky light sup with the neon light of yellow and green,
the distant horizon tinted with red, gray and pink.
The ground shakes under their feet as they scramble to find their family in the terrible chaos.
Smoke and dust rise into the air, filling their lungs and clouding their vision.
Drowning them in grainy pebbles and grey poison.
They scream and run horrified of what might be just a few feet behind them.
They dare not turn back to look at they dying city.
The buildings crumbling to ground at the slightest echo of sound.
Sirens scream in their ears as invisible airplanes weave in and out of the clouds,
threatening their entire existence with one simple black rocket.
The wailing of confused babies and terrified toddlers,
the silent tears of the older children who try to be strong,
and keep their siblings calm and distracted from the horror behind them.
And to think...
This was all started by a few simple words of ignarance and intolerance.
YOU ARE READING
Bombs On Monday
Poetry"Just because it isn't happening here, doesn't mean it isn't happening."
