Chloe Biberhofer, Grade 9
Do you hear them, the children a-crying?
Stomping and wailing while their parents are dying,
They don't understand the sweet hand of death,
Barely crosses their mind till they take their last breath,
The streets piled high with dread and despair,
Nobles and peasants both lost deep in prayer.
The people are empty with nothing but faith,
They wander about, drifting like wraiths,
The close all their blinds and bolt shut their doors,
They murmur and grumble, clutching their sores,
They shut themselves off from the world they find grim,
But soon they'll find out there's no hiding from him.