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Sep 2012
In the line of fire I stand
Blood in a drought filled land
The flesh wound smell
My nostrils are filled
Deaths desperate attempt
The air is chilled.

I reach out to free…
But then the blood is on me.

I can’t stop the gushing red
Shrieking pain, poisoned head
Grasping for a breath of faith
The air is thin, I cry out instead.

A cry of anger
Beyond wounded souls
Interrupted territory
Hot words. Burning coals.

Twisted cry
Mortality advert
Twisted truth
Woven with hurt.
Reconciliation I call
A gut filled plea
Groping dust.
Face down.
I cry out.
“mercy…?”
Toni Cezeal
Written by
Toni Cezeal
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