Sometimes you'll stand still for a minute
and you'll be engulfed by the sound of the world
crumbling all around you.
And you'll be filled with a sadness and a longing for what never was,
wishing you were dead,
for even Dante's Inferno couldn't be as bad as this.
Sometimes you'll stand still for a moment
and you'll see bits of shrapnel flying past you
and shards of glass will be at your feet,
complemented by bombs bursting behind you
buffetting you about
And you'll be filled with a horror only war can bring,
wondering whatever caused you to stop and stand still.
Sometimes you'll stand still for a minute
and you'll catch a crystalline shard.
And you'll be filled with an exquisite pain that would cause even the most callous person to writhe in agony
and as you look at your bloodied hand
you'll realize that that crystalline shard was no ordinary shard.
It was a tear.