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No. 1
August 25, 2012
We
bled
in black and white
across the bright red fields
which are
dyed
with the intensity of a lover.
Our minds
cloud
with the dreams of stillness
that will never
settle
as long as we shall live.
War
blinded
with hate and with agony
because we are not what they
damned
us to be.
The first of the evening
replies
that vultures
feed
on the dying.
We, the weak
are first.
© Chia F., Lake George, NY
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