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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Tragedy · #1977822
A poem about tragedy and its lasting impact.
The day my world ended, they came without a sound. 
I was grabbed and blindfolded, forced in a chair and bound. 
The day my world ended, the gunfire would pound.
My feet were wet, my floors were red, from her blood on the ground.
The day my world ended, they didn't stick around.
They left me and they hid her, so she'd never be found.

The day my world ended, they went there with no light.
They came through the window with knives, staying out of sight.
The day my world ended, they did it out of spite.
They didn't listen to his pleas, believing they were right.
The day my world ended, he screamed out in the night.
They said he didn't just give in, that he put up a fight.

The day my world ended, they all heard the first bangs.
There used to be a building, but now a smoke cloud hangs.
The day my world ended, hatred bared its fangs.
They shouted of politics and power, of religion and of gangs.
The day my world ended, our hearts all felt the pangs.
Pain for all those we lost to sounds of alarm bell clangs.

The day my world ended, I wanted to die too.
They told me that I couldn't go, that I had work to do.
The day my world ended, they talked of the red, white and blue.
Of patriotism and unity, of plans to start over new.
The day my world ended, freedom didn't ring true.
I didn't have the right to leave and reunite with you.
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