Apocalypse

She lies whimpering

From the non-stop plundering

Her arms slashed into tiny bits

By those she was moments ago housing

Her streets defaced with droppings

From oppressed weak inhabitants

Her heart reaches the point of breaking

But her tormentors were not done desecrating

Her soul screams for an abatement

But they were not good at listening

She started imploding

From her depth, she burnt

Consuming her tormentors and all within

via Daily prompts: Pillage

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