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Apr 2010
If I could tell them the rocks I turn them to
When loud commotion start a hectic running war,
I grab, I throw, restock as the fighters do
Watching them hurl to the ground as mine beating, tore.
Where ever stepped on, these certain tiles will break,
One path is my home, God, I can not hold
Twisters and questions commence upon the shake
On ward! they call, where is the force to be bold?
No two sided blade as this was ever so fatal
Thus up pours the light blood from this narrow transaction
Bandage, if found my dear wanted Excalibur cradle
Rocks would soon fall and let my agony fraction
So come rubble, gather, and produce me mine sword
This one to mend cuts, a love of such needed rewards.
Written by
Annie White
951
 
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