by Josephine (tobyjo44 )
Faint echoes of their screams
Swarm around the blackened hills.
The sun is bleeding upon this land.
So many bleeding- so many dead,
Their plasma slowly poisoning the soil.
Fertilizer to the plants I can remember-
I can't imagine ever growing here again.
Birds remain, make nests of matted hair,
The last one living take their money,
Their clothing- their memories,
Though he is not certain
What purpose they now have-
Now that everything is gone.