It sounded like fireworks. It almost brought back childhood memories of the 4th of July.
America’s independence. A thing to be proud of once. A thing that brought people together. Parades. Hope, family.
It sounded like fireworks. But the only noise left in the wasteland was the occasional gunshot, for food, family. Survival.
It sounded like fireworks. A memory of a world we left behind, for greed, gamemanship, and hatred.
Now the birds chirped, and tall buildings grew moss. Because we couldn’t work together, to continue that dream of independence.  Freedom was never free, but we at least had a day to blow stuff up.

It sounded like fireworks, but the noise was just hiding all the cracks in the world.