Titans Fall

Panic; lights blare and whistles blow.

The keys are turned, buttons glow.

With that final word, that final press,

All are thrown in a deep distress.

For the death bell has been rung,

And this final fate can’t be unsung.

Upon blaring lands and towers tall

Those grim titans quickly fall

As a mother strokes her son’s thin hair

And tells tale of past lands so fair

Where drills had never to be taught

And war was not for child's thought.

Dust and ash form dunes so grand,

And trees of char do cover the land.

Tales of old invoked anew:

The darkest peace we ever grew.