Ash

By Dore' •
I look up at the sky,
As the white slowly falls.
Wishing I could fly,
And just break through it all.
Its suffocating, blinding,
Cutting off air.
I start clawing at my throat as it burns.
The sounds of crying, screams,
Shrieks for dear life.
The wars around us, their not just bad dreams.
They're real.