• Here I lay, sleepless till tomorrow.
    There I weep in my own sorrow.
    For the fear I am deferring ,
    Every night so recurring.
    Is the horror I am seeing,

    Of a bomb that won’t cease being.
    Guts and limbs encase the flooring,
    That I walk before the morning
    And the stench I am engaging,
    From the carcasses decaying