The skies were a bit too yellow
And the seas, a bit more blue
Some of it was false,
While the rest of it was true
It was summer; the mercury went north
it was warm, with the calendar showing June the fourth
The entire town was engulfed in a blanket of smoke
Those disillusioned by it could do nothing, but hope
The town cried as it crumbled against the blaze
Those hiding behind curtains could nothing, but gaze
The town went down like an effigy of wax
As the rage intensified, the leafs turned black
Sweat on their palm, sweat on their chin
the degree of hope was weak, with chances quite thin
As the mercuries jumped, hopes got covered in a shroud
All was still and silent, with our minds thundering aloud
Soon enough, it was clear
That nothing could be done
People had nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run
Everything got dissolved
And what was left was the sun...
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