Our Street

This was us

our street

before the bombs fell

and turned it to rubble

and ashes

and turned us to dust

and ashes.

This is us

our street

where the lights shine brightly

and the Liquor Store is open

for party goers,

where the buildings

stand neatly in line,

where tomorrows are

as predictable

as todays


This is the US

where the bombs don’t fall.



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