again, bereaved dwellers cry of deaths and burns, bruises and casualties, bereaved dwellers cry from the grave in their hearts and the scowls on their faces are landmarks for grief. again, we heave and sigh over our losses, over the ball of fire that hit our country and the mishaps swooshing out notes of tears. again, we pour our tears into empty vases for men and women with portraits of lost souls and children with wounds of harsh moments. again, we sit under the roofs of a shattered sky, grieving over the disaster that swept across our city, leaving us with ashes and remains of burnt bodies.