The First Days Of Invasion Poem by Taylor J.S Reynolds

Sleep is scarce
where the silent screams
haunt the cracked streets,
forgotten tears fall with no sound.

Innocent eyes watch with intrigued fear
as faux fireworks rip their old school's heart out,
labouring mothers lie on cold concrete havens,
they speak wishful words with united hands.

Violent vessels play God on sacred sites,
A Church's spire falls to muffle the cries
of a worshipper's grief
(Where is God now?) .

Tanks retrace the routine stamps of
A separated couple
who'll be back together by Christmas.

The angry man in the lying suit
will spew untruths within the next hour,
a distant look at
what the Powerful are doing.