So rough was the rain,
As if heaven was crying,
Heavy drops on soft petals,
Thunder clapped as the beauty was dying,
The artistic, tiny flower,
Once danced in the drizzle,
At times, swayed with the light breeze,
But the new bud was still in a puzzle,
How the music of the rain became a noise,
How the shower of love became a painful poise,
The bud, she saw the flower fall to rest,
She saw the raindrop hit her mother’s chest,
The red elixir of life splattered on her face,
In moments, the sky was quite,
The wind had gone, painting the walls red from white,
She still still bloomed amidst the rubble and whither,
Memories of the storm had again now hit her,
It wasn’t the music of her brother’s videogame,
It was guns and rifles, from where the noise had came,
There were no clouds for the drought hit lands,
Massacred for no good, by monstrous hands,
Deep inside the flowery form she knew,
Lives of millions were in pathetic hands of few,
No food to eat, no water to drink,
Hours in the bunker she’d think,
How cruel is the war out there?!,
Boom!! Came a huge blast,
And she vanished in a blink.
-Dark Phoenix 09
Phoenix Poetry And Musings 