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At Sixes and Sevens
Under the shattered roof, I knelt
With the muslin fabric in my hands.
I wished for an embroidered kerchief,
A moment before the catastrophe.
Bright beads haphazardly scattered
Across the blood-drenched floor.
Chalet with antiques and artwork
Now it appeared like corrugated debris.
Smoke grenades tossed like coins
Into every house in the town.
Noxious fumes billowed out
From the burning buildings.
A tumult of screams and cries broke out,
Frightening the lives of many.
I limped towards a safer place,
Crossing the complete chaos.
The town square welcomed me with
Lifeless bodies stacked one over the other
Fresh hues of crimson tainted
The placid waters of the fountain.
My legs are fragile to bear the
Cold wind and chills.
With no choice, I fall
To the snow-covered ground.
Staring at the starry sky with
My half-closed eyes,
I wish to live a little longer
Just to admire this sky once more.
Chances of living a better tomorrow
May seem beyond expectation,
Like spotting tears of desperate lives
In those placid waters.
If I were to be evacuated this night,
I would be the fortunate girl whose
Silenced voice could be heard among
The thousand calls for the rescue.
If tomorrow exists, I may hold the
Muslin fabric with embroidered dove,
And proudly wear the kerchief
Like a tiara.
This night is full of hopes for an uncertain future, and
Dreams that are unfulfilled in the past.
For now, I take a deep sleep even when
Everything is at sixes and sevens.
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