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In The Aftermath

03 Jul

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And let the bombs burst in air,
as in wars, ‘ere signs of patriots;
no longer fight for justice sake,
‘ere no survivors are left to save;
these wounds cannot be healed,
no peace found in the aftermath;
yet condors still have their carrion,
and the wolves still sing for blood;
and let the mighty who have fallen
find, at least, their worthy grave;
let others aside, ‘ere be no martyrs,
with their numbers yet uncounted;
and to the generals and politicians,
those bold and noble men of means,
who have before stood upon a dais,
now let them weep o’er war-torn soil;
that they make new laws and amends,
e’er distancing themselves from real;
as they now sleep in mires of blood,
murders of crows feasts on their eyes.

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Posted by on July 3, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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