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Nov 4
I am eight, I dream
Not of missiles that permeate rooftops
From dream to reality

Here I lay
Powdered concrete fills my nostrils
Schoolgirl crush, shards of glass, metal beams
Breath,Breath

Scars of misery
Souls that linger
Voices screams
War is pungent and mean
I am eight, I bleed
Written by
David
47
     irinia
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