Squish,Squish,Squish

Squish,Squish,Squish a sound on the street.
The sounds is made by mud on my feet.
I went to a town in the midle of night.
I went by that hour to be out of sight.
I carry bag full of broken dreams.
From the town you can hear frighten screams.
Children bleeding in bed.
Found dead with a nail in their heads.
A cloud of smoke rise to the sky.
While houses are burning and people inside fry.
Tears of the sufering floods the floor.
No one there while breath anymoore.
I am war, i am plague.
So many lifes ive taken, so many coud be had.
There is no wonder im glad...
ANother poem. Man this is Fun.