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May 2010
Praise be to "****."
our national anthem.
Our herald to the sky.
Our call unheard
Un-cared about
Our shred of sanity
when uttered loud at night
Or barely escaping past our lips
Or lost in our eyes locked
upon each others' ever-present
"****."
Our fists through glass
Our blade on skin.
Our true uniting cry.
Our "****."
Written by
Irene S
848
     D Conors
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