Images of broken light

A night in 1945, nothing out of the ordinary,
Chopsticks held, I picked aimlessly at my rice and curry,
The porchlights went off, I was tucked into bed,
Mother had left, prayers had been said.
Being the youngest in the family, royal treatement was assured.
The finest of schools, I was sent to.
What had caused me dismay that day,
Was my fifth grade crush refused to look my way,
So problems in my life were as trivial as could be,
Simply stated I lived my life carefree.
Sixth August 1945, dawned bright and clear,
I skipped to school with no worries, no fear,
Reflecting on it now, I thought too soon,
For in a flash of a second, from the sky, rose a giant balloon.
A cloud of dust rose magnanimously,
It seemed like all source of light had been shut off deliberately.
Flung to the wall, my heart stopped.
In a painless moment, my arm was chopped.
Heat waves rippled through my body,
Armageddon for sure was coming to get me,
Heaving myself in a familiar direction,
Disaster everywhere, agony,
Trod back home to find a pile of bricks,
Rubbed my eyes over, they were playing no tricks.
And that's when I knew all life was over,
Bodies were strewn, my sister's pullover!!
Sprinted to her side, yelled her name,
Wake up I screamed, already knowing it was lame,
My eyes bled, I could'nt see,
My flesh started peeling, falling off completely,
My lungs were burning, that's all I remember,
I blacked out, woke up in September,
Till date, the pain is all I feel.
Pulled through it I have, but nothing has healed.
The A-bomb dropped on Hiroshima, I have survived
But all I am left with is images of broken light.