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May 2015
I play in the mud beneath the window sill
Eat corn on the cob at a plastic child’s table
Mother takes pictures for posterity, smiles until

The child I was is dead, may he rot well
Too naïve to live, too weak to survive this hell

The backyard latch is opened with a rake
And I escape into the desert wilderness
To find castles, dragons, and a princess

Through the haze of rage I know to be as lethal as I would need to be
To **** the guilty would instead guarantee innocent casualties
But I’m looking into your eyes as you watch my brothers die

After the man’s blood and meat were hosed off the street
The pink froth went down a grate

You, my love
Have lied to me
Denied to me
My mercenary consolation prize
And legally stole my home

Pain comes in waves of light
Brightly colored from the left
Strips words of meaning, leaves only

Blood on feet…what a beautiful color
I’m ******
Written by
Noor  California
   Cecil Miller
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