murdering bombs

I want to paint  – the moment a blackout happens stopping all forms of twinkling light, sirens wailing battalions of injured soldiers on the beach of normandy and the condensation of when you breath in a gas mask. 


I want to paint – the buildings that are still standing proud like a soldier, the rustling shrapnel on the Anderson shelter and the acrid smoke burning my lungs. 


I want to paint – the bombs, who became murderers to the town, drop and devastate the city, spitfires rattling as well as soaring overhead and sadness from people sobbing salty tears.


I want to paint – the tree waving goodbye before it gets destroyed, the heat of flames to suddenly perish and the dust scattering around the shelters floor.


 I want to paint – the cement of the buildings giving up, the glittering stars in the black sky and the explosions to finally stop.


 I want to paint the end of this war.


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