The shadows hurried toward the stairs,
the children drenched in tears,
the home invaders stared at them gravely
as they bolted the door,
and pushed the adults to the floor,
fear seemed to be running in all directions,
adjusting the horror, and the terror,
making the needed corrections,
they latched the shutter of the window,
all feeling the gloom,
as an icy light seeped into the room,
the mother was crossing herself
over and over,
as the fear kept on feeding,
the father took all of the beating,
the punches kept coming in droves,
as if someone was keeping score,
the children heard his screams
even when the invaders closed the door,
they continued the assault until he was done,
and then began to laugh
as if they were chosen by the unholy one.
© 2011 Frank Atanacio
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