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Jul 2014
The children sit there crying
as the people all lay dying,

but all I can do,
is sit and stare at you.

At least you are still,
maybe after a test of will,
my heartache will bring you back.

Children bury those who turn old,
it is life though it is cold.

I must live without you,
you may be many and we few,
parents who bury children.
Written by
Patrick
251
 
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