The Bus
by Dan Sanders
Another siren wails through the air
peircing it, like a sword peirces flesh;
its just an ordinary day
wailing, wailing, like the mourners at tomorrows funerals
phones ring constantly
"Did you ride the bus today?"
"No, no, Im okay"
How long can life go on this way?
With guns and bombs replacing shovels and hoes
You see it in all its gory glory,
the bus, mauled, into a twisted, burning, hulking wreck of steel
twisted, and violently, too;
on the ground, at its base, a pool of blood
with human remains lying
in the street
be strong, they say
we must be strong, and together,
we'll carry on
so thats what we'll do, but for all the rest
Shalom and I'm sorry
we'll meet again;
someday
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