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Jun 2016
A child's scream,
But no child's lungs,
Produced the grating sound.

Fear is laced,
Upon the air,
And seeps into the ground.

Shots ring out,
And feet pound,
As mothers rush to their sons.

Explosions rip,
Their hearts in two,
Their lives the price for guns.
Parsavagely Kompenere
Written by
Parsavagely Kompenere  19/F/Yorkshire
(19/F/Yorkshire)   
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