men with metal arms

i had to write a poem for my creative writing exam, in response to this poem. i actually quite like it. i apologise for not being around. it is assessment time and i have twelve big assignments due in the next five weeks. i am royally screwed. i miss this place. my love xo;

I remember the day they came.
I remember the grass, once soft beneath my feet,
Now burning and black.
It used to be peaceful here, before these men came.
These men with wide eyes
And mouths in grim lines,
They carried with them a stench,
Of ghosts embedded in their clothes.

Everyone was scared and I remember the sound
Of hands grasping hands,
Of children’s screams,
Of breaking fingernails as we tried to hold onto
Our mortality.

I used to dream of running,
Through the fields around our home,
But not because I was scared…
Just because it was beautiful.
And I could smell the flowers
As they brushed against my legs.
I could hear the laughter chasing me,
And eventually I would let it catch me.

It used to be peaceful here, before these men came.
These men with metal arms,
And the ability to fly like I used to dream of doing.
They bought with them a stench,
Of fear and gasoline.

The ground was pulsing like I was surrounded
By a herd of wild horses,
And the air vibrated and trembled around my ears.
I remember the feeling of heat,
Like the sun was pressed right up against my skin,
And I screamed.

I remember running down the street,
Ground like quicksand beneath my feet.
I ran because I was scared.
And I could smell the napalm
Sticking to my legs.
I could hear the heat chasing me,
And eventually it would catch me.

It used to be peaceful here, before these men came.
And I cannot dream of running,
Without the smell of gasoline.