almost a year after

some people lucky,
for instantly die and out of this ruin land,
other less lucky,
waiting to die,
while others running around to find their beloved one.

many just have a bad luck,
to live on and witnesses the misery.

a month after,
my mother stand in front of her ruin house,
asking why?

some say to her,
you were lucky for not being there.

and I repeat the same hate;
the deaths were the lucky, we just had a bad luck

now almost a year after,
i stand in this land,
confuse,
fragile,
hopeless,
asking what the hell is going on
or shout, i want out

yet she keeps asking why?