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Premonition of Doom

A premonition of doom hovers,
The sky turns Grey and everything stutters,
Vision is obstructed as pellets flutters
And hit the window panes like bullets.

The hits keep coming for minutes
On end, while those inside hides,
And others scramble for their lives.

A premonition of doom descends
As bullet spray holes in cements,
As explosions scatter shrapnel shards,
As wounds bleed and blood vessels explodes.

Run, run, as the premonition plays hide and seek,
As you are uncertain a boom and scream are bleak
Sounds that drown out everything that’s not a freak.

A premonition of doom slithers
Down your spine and hinders
Any action as you’re paralyzed by feelings
Of someone walking over your grave and steals …

Takes away your premonition of good
Leaving only the pessimist whose sole food
Is your terror that feeds his vanity that won’t brood.

By Malakkc

I'm a Canadian whose life has been interesting as I've lived in Developing countries and here. The contrast of law, order, and amenities available to us Canadians (which we take for granted, sometimes) to war torn civil wars is enormous. It leaves an influence upon the soul that cries out for justice. My poetry and writing reflect that and more.

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