Pinpricks staining the white silk sheets
Crimson flowerings Marring the pure snow bedspread Flesh exposed Dripping red Slowly pooling and gathering A strained grin, screaming eyes dim Hope ebbing and draining We are the living.
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Bleached from the unkempt sun,
Years since the life drained from its eyes One of thousands, the herd beaten and chased into remission A trail of bones tells stories Wind whipping and howling through skulls Singing the songs of the dead Weeping with the mothers Shawls stained and bitten by the crisp wind Capes flapping in the wind Flags flying high Tamed and conquered Flags dripping blood Skulls adorned in full war paint Crimson in life and in death Warriors till the end Poked prodded and herded to their deaths Resolute in the warriors way Marching till legs gave out and feet bled and marching on still Spirits undefeated Their are no shackles in death. Flashing and neon
Constant and fluorescent Everywhere and inescapable Piercing, a skeleton key into the mind A burning urge to obey Twisted to the will of the bulb The way to happiness is through us This look, that shirt, those shoes How to be hip in 3 simple steps What frozen character are you? Bombarding the psyche of the malleable The youth and the impressionable Canvases to paint logos on The swoop The golden arches The apple. But mom, Everyone else has one Soldiers
Trained in eons Centurions in the truest sense Armor chipped and worn by the elements Standing strong against the ages Observers of light and darkness Harborers of refugee and civilian alike The silent strength of the wild The light bow of the breeze Calling upon us all |
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