Aura was sorrowful,

With wails crooning against walls.

Anguish sang songs,

So sorrowful and unhappy.

Sound of a bomb : not a lullaby

Was raising up.

Pain was all around,

With humans torn apart.

Blood was in motion,

With no path to drift,

As chunks of brawn,

Of humans lay on ground,

As a block on humanity.

Horror of disassociation,

Was a painful thought,

And an aching action.

I am not a runaway,

I want to stay,

In my spot.

I am not a runaway,

I want to stay,

In my own spot.