A dim light flickers in a desolate hall,
The crumbling buildings begin to fall.
People scream as cinders fly,
Terrified children start to cry.
"Help! Help!" the people shout,
"We're all trapped, there's no way out!"
But no one hears their fearful calls,
Outside those shaking, breaking walls.
And in the streets there is a mob,
Where even men begin to sob.
The buildings fall, one by one,
Smoke blocks out the setting sun.
The shivering earth calms its trembles,
And drops of blood cling to ivy tendrils.
Mothers hold their dying daughters,
Sons cry out for missing fathers.
The island stands in disarray,
As flame engulf the dying day.
Corpses line each injured street,
And chaos reins with fiery heat.
So many children without a home,
Are now forced to face this world alone.
The injured cry out in the night,
And the dying reach out toward the light.
© Copyright 2016 Phoebe Kishbaugh. All rights reserved.