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Apr 2022
I saw a dying brother bleed out.
I watched a madman **** his flock.
Parades celebrated the funerals.
Little boys masquerading as men
played war. Real men died for mud.
Loved ones prayed their rosaries.
No prayers were ever answered on
our street. Gold stars filled sad
windows. Widows cried in private.
They never wanted to dance again.
William J Donovan
Written by
William J Donovan  76/M/New Bern, NC
(76/M/New Bern, NC)   
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