"Mamma! Mamma, what's that, over there?"
My young daughter called to me
While pointing to a burning factory.
"Mamma! Mamma, what's going on?"
We watched with hightened horror
At the scene that played before us.
"Mamma! Mamma, why--"
Suddenly we couldn't breath.
We watched the factory crumble,
Now a pile of burnt rubble,
As a loud explosion rummbled
Us all the way through our feet.
"Mamma! Mamma, I can't see!"
Instead of inoccent questions
My baby now let out terrified screams.
"Mamma! Mamma, what's wrong with me?"
She screamed and cried
For me to help her.
"Mamma! Mamma, where are you?"
But I couldn't tell her.
I couldn't help her.
For I was dying in the street.
"Mamma! Mamma, I... I love you..."
Were her dying words to me.
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