The trumpet call
shatters the cold dark night
as the shots of life and death ring
Loudly, sharp and a crack
a life. a story . lost
Circles continue
as life itself ceases
Paradise stained- Red!
as the clouds of despair loom
The noise of silence echoes
the battle scars- Forever.
some vague poem for cul week two years back.
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1 comment:
scars... to tell us how mature we are...
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