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Michael Stefan Feb 2020
-in honor of Matthew Hennigan, Vinson Adkinson and everyone else who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their brothers and sisters in arms, you are missed every day

Oh, sweet empty mountain
in your quiet majesty,
Overwatching flowing rivers
meandering through a hushed valley,
And the sparsely growing forest
littered with ruins of times forgot,
In this silent, flowing landscape
for which many nations have fought

Oh, the things you've seen oh mountain,
from triumph to betrayal
To lovers' first awkward kiss,
and children battling so playful
And in waves, you saw it change,
one year peace, the next year tense
You have witnessed arc of all mankind,
each and every sad offense

You witnessed the day when they sat
upon your steep marble mountainside,
Wrapped in ratty tan blankets,
whose purpose was to let them hide
And fingers lay on naked triggers,
muzzles pointed to the road
Cloaked men carried bandoliers,
so their gunners needn't reload

And in the early dawn of light,
the first 'crack' echoed off your side
As a battlefield erupted,
the roaring of a violent fight
Oh, you ancient hunk of rock,
overseeing all as many died
In the distance could you hear,
the faint sound as we all cried?

Rest in peace you glorious *******
I love you Matty and Vinny
I'll see you again one day
Can't really talk about this one.
AE Feb 2020
Red
I always wondered,
Why in my culture, we wore a red
And not a white
Then I remembered she is a woman
Her blood is rinsed with sacrifice
And on the day of matrimonial happiness
She shall bleed out
Maybe it’s a cry for change,
Or maybe it’s compromise in its most crimson reflection
But when her hands are stained with henna
And her arms laced in embroidered elegance
Does her blood begin to change?
And if it doesn’t, will she be thrown away
Like the burden on her fathers head?
That chokes him from the day she was born to the day she is wed
Is that why her mother once wore the colour red?
I think to myself,
a lamb bleeds too when it’s cut for it’s meat,
And then it’s coat is no longer light
Is that why she wears red and not white?
Ellis Reyes Feb 2020
Holy
Sacrifice
Purifies the profane
Our undeserved redeemer is
Sacred
Ruheen Feb 2020
That's nice
Please run
I'm not gonna lose
Anyone anymore
Cause I don't want
To die alone
I want someone
Next to me
On my death bed
It's selfish
I know
I'm a hypocrite
I'd give up anything
But I won't even live
I'm sorry
It's too much
One and now me
But I'm not even
Supposed to breathe
Six feet under
Dust
Or shadows
Clouds
Or shallows
You didn't ask me to
You didn't have to
I didn’t want
To bury you
So I'm going to let you
Bury me too

No one ever said sacrifice was easy to do
No sacrifice is ever a gift. Not in the long-run anyway.

This is for every book, movie, or tv show, that kills off a character, to save another. They sacrifice that character.

I hate it sometimes. Other times I laugh. Once I screamed. Twice I've cheered.
That Girl Feb 2020
A year ago I lost you.
A year ago I was mourning our friendship like I was mourning a death.
A year ago you probably felt it too.  
You might feel like I abandoned you,
But that’s far from the truth.  
Truth is,
I pray for you every night.
I think about you everyday.
I miss you.
I love you dearly.
But I couldn’t sacrifice my soul for our friendship.
I had to sacrifice our friendship for my soul.
Lavender Menace Feb 2020
A nun rests her head against the broken headstone, wishing to transfer all cracks in this headstone to her own small heaven clad head.
She prays "darling I wish you could belong in this world of glass water and walk among the land that looks of spilled grains, I wish I could have prayed away your pain, but alas your golden lights gone and it's all in pure vain, the gold frames kept me in the stone house as you roamed the glass cave just out of my silver gaze, Now you swim in butter lakes and live among the crimson dolls" The nun pulled out of what was left in her small pocket, an item of love and fear "I had to borrow this, my dear. I apologize" the nun said with a voice made from an ugly green As the nun walked from the broken headstone, tearing up a porclin doll. She kissed goodbye to the no longer beating heart of her colbat blue daughter and never looked back.
My first story poem, high key tho I mentioned like all the colors in this poem lol, sorry abt that
Poetic T Feb 2020
He was the brave,
              the martyr of the people.
Dying for what he believed in.

                                         The truth,
for every touch was a continuum
of what was spread upon others.

He told the world, was subjugated
        to a whistle that was silenced
before he could tune out a hum...

But he told the many,
                       of the few
that  have now become more.

That  just a whistle,
                            became a voice,
now that has  fall like a tree in
a forest of many but people
see them fall and fear they
could be  the next to be no more.

But his whistle has become a shout,
            and the people demand

honour for a man of life that died
               because he worked on those
suffering and now he had fallen.

He will be remembered as the one
             who cried out and saved
                      many before he timed out..
The doctor that told the world of the new virus and what is virility was, rest in peace, savour of the sick, you have fallen but will be remembered
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