I can smell
Fear and worry
I can sense
Anger and hatred
In the hard, grey, dead
Rubble
Pressing into the soles of my
Rich-peoples shoes

The sun burns
With an intense heat
On the new buildings
The power provided
Flimsy, uncaring
Hatred
Is for those
Who couldn't care less

Their people died
And the power wept
And stalled for time
Until it was too late
Crushed and suffocated
Beneath your own home

Living in shelters…shacks
Barefoot children growing up
No lease to build a house
On what was my home
Communities gone
Wiped out
Torn down

Are you a budding writer or poet? Join the site and send us your scribblings!