Scene:
Words, like bullets, soar;
From the right
From the left
While a sea of tiny people,
With even tinier voices,
Cower in the middle.
A battle;
Propaganda, their choice weapon
The media, their battlefield.
Cue explosion
A mushroom cloud
Of isms, schisms, and hate.
End scene
Scene:
Bleak skies
Everywhere blatant lies
A father passes around,
Meager loaves of gravel-laden bread.
A mother awaits her son’s return,
And receives a mangled, bloody corpse instead.
A child’s limp form on a hospital bed
Insides twisting,
From acidic chemicals with smudged names
A field for experimentation
Misdiagnosed so many times,
His parents no longer know what he suffers from.
Imagine:
“A boot stamping on a human face”
Forever
And ever
And ever.
Cue explosion
A mushroom cloud
Of anarchy, chaos and hope
End scene
Scene:
A dilapidated school
Precocious minds,
In haggard, little bodies.
Cramped classrooms
Stubby, broken pencils
Bound with cello tape
Torn, faded notebooks.
Write small
More space equals more words
Equals more knowledge.
Lessons up on the crooked board
Unharmonious scratches of pencil against paper
Then,
The dull roar of engines from a distance,
Stealthily creeps into the classroom.
Pencils fall and clatter
Voices drop to whispers
Breaths are held
Silence
Danger
The roar becomes a deep rumble,
That permeates every inch of the sky.
Soon replaced by the deafening scuffle of feet
Shrieks of panic
The sound of fear
Cue explosion
A mushroom cloud
Of crushed dreams, destruction and death.
End scene
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