Searing pain, Nothing is happy, nothing is all and well.
My skin, my skin… where has my skin gone…
My clothing's patterns are etched across my flesh like a tattoo or more like a brand.
I should be hurt more, should be dead,
Must have been a Molotov Flower Basket
Must have been Raining Gasoline,
Must have been the Americans.
Nobody hears the screaming of death.
All around, we are deaf with shock.
Only our families and close neighbors will we help to dig from the ruins.
The ruins that are quickly catching, burning with ember.
Giant water falls from the sky.
Oh, please let me die.
The planes in the sky, flying ahead.
The all-clear had sounded,
Now millions would be dead.
In my city of Hiroshima…