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Sep 26
Words lay in a heavy pile
Receipts love cannot reconcile
Scattered on the floor
We could not let go
And instead went to war

Insults flew like arrows
And not a medic to be found
On this casing littered killing ground
From all the heated words
And desire for one more round

But none shall claim the win
Only frightened souls amassing sin
None shall rise
No one to claim the prize
Just bitter fighters with blackened eyes
Mark Grover
Written by
Mark Grover
33
 
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