• The quiet pulse of a heart,
    Amid chaotic desolation,
    Glass shards and concrete rubble,
    A bitter kind of salvation.

    The intake of oxygen,
    As the air hangs dead,
    Dead bodies and teddy bears,
    The river runs red.

    The blinking of eyes,
    As clouds muddle vision,
    Broken windows and cracked bones,
    A strange sort of incision.

    The quiet pulse of a heart,
    That’s in everyone’s ears,
    Tattered clothing and frayed lives,
    Only one is left.