The Blitz

My skeleton is the twisted, tangled, tortured timber.

My hair is the smoke, weaving through the air.

My searching eyes are the maps leeding me from place to place.

My heart is completely empty of all the emotion.

My tears are the falling bombs, flattening everything.

Everywhere I look I  see dirty dark dusty death.

Stamping feet demolishing houses causing rubble everywhere.

Everyone fears me , for I am the Blitz.

By Fenton Skidmore.