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Oct 2011
Ethnic Cleansing


You
Blinked in the sun
The laughter ended
Young children lay
Seemingly bathing
As blood ran
From their wounds
Seeping into
The bright green grass
Turning it black
like your soul
You
Gun in hand
Dry eyed
Wept imaginary tears
Imagined fears
Fulfilled
Children’s lives stilled
David I Phillips
Written by
David I Phillips  York
(York)   
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