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He waits alone while men work hurriedly.
With dusty hair and bloodied face, in grief,
In pain, in shock, awaiting tragedy,
He sits. And there can be no disbelief
About a world of ash-filled skies and pain,
Where brothers die and daughters are demeaned.
In their world, blackened rocks and dead terrain
Are common. Bloodstains and unholy scenes
Surround a people fighting for release,
Release from hate and from calamity.
But time and time again it isn't peace
That comes off conqueror. It's entropy.
There's something wrong with how we could forget
About a boy whose playmates are now dead.
image by Central News Network