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Rated: E · Poetry · Community · #2175075
Such a tragedy, countless tiny lives smothered out in seconds.
The Night

Such lovely works of art they seem
Bodies resting still, their eyes closed forever
And forms twisted to shatter
As if dreaming of a tomorrow
When there was only that night

Eruption of fire
Ashes shooting up
No regard for fragile skin
But why they so were so punished
The cries bleeding into the night

No use running to their gods
Elysium’s gates were sealed tight
Forgotten and forsaken
Prayers fallen quiet
Just whispers in the night

And the ashes started falling
The fire roaring to the heavens
There was no where left to hide
Still they huddled in smokey buildings
Watching their world suffocate in the night

And the past is so impersonal
Its many stories silenced from eager ears
But this story wont be forgotten
Its pages immortalized
To be seen by day and night

What tragedy to see
Hundreds of years have well passed
All that’s left is those lovely works of art
For all of man to see
Their bodies fading into the night.

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