Restless and anxious,
She ran out of the safehouse.
Bare and tender,
Feet peirced by rubble.
"Mom! Where are you?"
Shrill shout that was heard by many,
Only, the ears were owned by mummies.
Under the ground of mud,
Who knows who lost that hand?
It wasn't her mom's.
Oh little girl,
Where did your mother go?
"I don't know..."
"...There was a storm,
We didn't know."
She sobbed as she went,
Then she was found,
The day after the next,
In a body bag,
One of the people at rest.
JovialMask2023
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POEMS
Poetry"These don't heal." TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ CONTENTS THAT SOME READERS MIGHT FIND DISTURBING. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
