The Bomb Poem by Nathan Kraft

The Bomb



5,
4,
3,
2,
1,
The Bomb goes Off.
Falling Forever but Now it Stops.
The World Quakes and Control is Lost,
even the Value of Life has Lost its Cost.

its Fire Swells and Burns with Immense Heat.
The Explosion is Short but Engulfs all who Seem Weak.
Charred Remains is all that lies Beneath,
Twisted, Tormented Souls, The Bombs tropthy To Keep.

5,
4,
3,
2,
1,
The Bomb goes Off...Again,
But this time the Flame is Contained-
a Small Gift given to all Patiant Men.

The Shaky Feeling, when I Lose Control,
the Feeling of my Blood Running Cold.
My Pupils Expand and Life...Ceases to Exist,
I Hate it when My Bomb Goes Off, Trying to Resist.

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