Shooting Star.

We were so keen
so we have seen
the scattered sight
perceived through all our might.
The days were awful
for they were done unlawful
the nights were hellish
to step out was foolish.

The child looked up
at the night, with his pup
wishing for a star
best, if a shooting star.
Then dawn came
awakened by his father who never knew fame,
the child came out
then, ceased the father’s shout.

He looked for his pup
with no mother to cure his hiccup
they say she was taken
by the spirits, who own the Kraken
but he had seen
his mother taken by men of spleen
carrying metal spitters and armors
creating near-death clamours.

He washed his face,
worried, he increased his pace
then came night again
cries surfaced, and pain,
he looked up,
held tightly, to a broken cup.
Weary, his strained little eyes saw it
far, moving in a devilish fit.

What may it be so far
lighting the night as a shooting star,
if it was, he’d be calm
but this moved swiftly, above the dried-up palm
below the moon, t’was not an aura of calm it spread
but one of fear, which could be read
like the ones he’d seen
the ones he’d felt changed the scene.

It roared past, into nearby lands
Deja vu, the boy thought, with shivering hands
the Smokey trail it left behind,
echoing as stones grind.
A sudden infecting nimbus blinded him
a wide poisonous blast deafened him
birds flew in a fit,
human lives surely ceased in a jit.

Shooting star, it was not
but a dream ‘radicator, said it hot
but why, he being innocent
but why, not owning a cent .
The souls looked up
at the night, with their pup
wishing for a star
best, if a shooting star.