No victory celebrations,
No bunting hung,
Defeat has stung.
Devastation,
A city of stone
Now reduced to
Piles of rubble.
They climb out
of underground shelters
to a lunar landscape
Unfamiliar to the world
left behind.
The guns have stopped,
Compared to the air of days gone by,
Full of bang and boom,
The sounds of doom.
Stunde Null,
Zero hour,
The city lies in their power,
4 allies
Hold the fate of broken lands,
this scorched world
in their hands.
The Poetic Prince 