Sparkatale

First strike, three nights, they mourned one.

Second, three nights, for this, heaven knows.

For your perturbative neighbors raised this tension,

accumulative coffins for burial without objection.

"Raise the woods!" They burned their souls.

Guns’ shots boomed! They burned their souls.

A prone child stood from wettish dirt,

Eyes in tears. “Ma, pa, save me…”

Houses were grinning on this fiery delirium.

Massive towering smokes showed semblance of emotions.

This scorched those nescient hypocrites for doom.

Only these villagers had feared the unknown.