Analysis of Moldova Burns

In a world of mass destruction
Where missiles fall like rain
All his city…deconstruction
A man is crying in Ukraine
Petro grew up in Moldova
This country is his home
Olena is gone he can’t hold her
Petro is frightened to the bone
The midnight train is the last
He must make it there by dawn
Burning buildings and broken glass
His dear Olena is gone
Here he stands amongst the fire
People crying all around
He’s old he is not a fighter
His danger is quite profound
Missiles flew in from the west
Blowing up a bus of soldiers
A young man without a chest
Is screaming as he smolders
Petro knows he must make that train
He must or he will be ash
Must get on that refugee train
That train will be the last
Another blast sets children ablaze
Bodies stink like burning meat
He must make it through this maze
Of rubble and death in the streets
Fighter jets in the cold night sky
Bring machine gun fire down
Ripping flesh he can hear their cries
It’s Hells glory all around
His mind is racing in fear
Heart beats like a hurricane
It nothing but a river of tears
In the heart beat of Ukraine
He’s running he’s running in the dark
This old grey man is stumbling
He’s now running running through the park
“I won’t make it” he’s mumbling
Closer then he was before
The sun is rising soon
“Please God” Petro implores
As he watches the fading moon
He can hear the people all shout
He can here them at the station
Been running he’s close to out
His heart beats in elevation
His made it to the soldiers gate
He’s shows I.D. With broken eyes
He’s going to be free of Hells gate
The trains close in the sunrise
With relief inside his tired head
He looks up to the clouds
“Rockets incoming!!” A soldier said
Then two explosions real loud
Petro’s head was spinning circles
He had lost is leg and arm
Sirens started to echo
As they all raised all of the alarms
This war for his home is over
At least it is for this old man
He thinks of her..he wants to hold her
Gone is his peaceful land
I’m sorry I need you to be leaving
My Demons want a war
It’s me and them and I am grieving
For the old me lost forever He can hear the dying crying
Children call for their mothers
He can hear more rockets flying
He slowly dies, free from what he suffered