They move in a trance,
fear-streaked faces crushing
the earth.
No one is ever the same again.
The downed poles buzz electric—
not with light,
but with the current
between life and death.
The city is no dance floor,
but buildings,
like dominoes, fall
in a crushing rhythm,
a cacophony of collapse.
A twist in the streets—
homes redrawn by mortal shells,
children lost in static chaos.
And there is a mirror:
a polished shard of shrapnel,
catching a soldier’s face
as if a butcher has sliced it open.
But the world sees through an obscure glass,
the images undefined.