Thing a Week 17: Quake

The floor is shaking
The walls are waving
The windows are breaking
I am not safe

The books are flying
The work is stopping
The people are crying
I am not safe

Free
Falling
Inward blow
Chances shot
Downwards we fly
Voices caught
But to say goodbye
And I know
I am not safe

As the dust settles
I meekly look around
Hoping to see someone
In destruction profound

And within the clouds of smoke
I see people, barely standing
The people the gods
Weren’t so heavily reprimanding

I try to stand but just can’t feel
The world has parked on top of me
I scream and yell and cry and squeal
But our lives are locked and I’ve lost my key

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