Guernica

The day was clouded and black
fire and smoke rained and fell.
The city was melting.
It was our own personal Hell.

Tears streaming down their ashen faces,
women and children huddle in fear.
Wailing for help that wouldn't come.
Death and suffering were all too near.

The ground rumbles as if hungry,
as our bodies burn in the fire.
Buildings moan in their crushing pain,
death and decay filling the earth's desire.

Three long hours felt like years.
The fire raged on unquenched, unfeeling.
Any spark of life was quickly smothered,
sanity and hope of life unraveling.

The fire dies down and all is silent.
All except the desperate moans of the dying.
The Angel of Death has visited this land.
To snuff out the sounds of people crying.