The city smells like gasoline and gunpowder.
Bullets line the streets
Next to bodies incomplete
With families that couldn't be sadder or prouder.

The city smells of melancholy
With empty homes
And streets where everyone wanders or roams
Wondering about their notion of safety, their folly.

The city in the distance smells like fire and flesh
As they walked through icy fields
Or rode away on trains
With feelings of fear or sighs of relief
And watching the spectacle of smoke fly higher, even a mesh.

The city smells like ashes
With shivering, starved enemies
Still carrying their now pointless weapons
Longing for those warm clashes.

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