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Apr 2015
a table salt spilled next to the dead
warrior, a young ******, stands
frozen, over his limp body,
a garrison marched into
a vault stole every thing of any value,
left only, drips of terror
fallow cries whispers
dry lips horror
death,
from the reeking remains of
history, the teacher taught me,
about Germanic victories, Viking tales,
conquistadors.
There,
was where i remember,
this.
wordvango
Written by
wordvango
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