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May 2021
Light and dark,
And cheer and terror,
Niké passed out in a park,
Her wings and shield in squalor.

Glory lost,
And hair strewn far,
She paid too high a cost.
For one, lone night at the local bar.

Victory for loss,
And brothers gone,
The graves taken by moss,
Her sword remained undrawn.
Written by
Martin Vanický
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