Fortuna

December 13, 2007

by: Silver Nightingale

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Across the darkened streets, wide eyed

I heard the people as they cried, I heard the screech of metal glide

Across the rain-licked asphalt road beneath the eerie moon that glowed, and that was when the bus exploded.

Of bitter smoke, the air was shrouded, the distinct scent of blood was horrid; my mind would be forever

Haunted

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AN: First attempt of forced format poetry, written for a class in world literature.