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fish-sama Mar 26
Conquest.
Soldiers need release.
80 years ago, I,
young lady, Chinese,
would've been a slave—
thrusted deep in the front lines
rotting bodies,         disease, and knives
inside me.             I am
the evidence they must hide.

Lucky me. I watch Japanese TV
and music and teens. I love
Japanese novels and Japanese comics
and Japanese history. Lucky me,
two-thousand-twenty-five,
age fifteen, Chinese.
Comfort women, most commonly from Korea, China, and Southeast Asia, were forced into s_xual slavery to "comfort" Japanese soldiers during the war. They were often sent to the front lines, treated incredibly harshly, and massacred at the end of the war to hide the evidence. I'm not supporting hate towards Japan. The government has already apologized and paid reparation to the comfort women hurt during World War II. This shows humility and is a good example of how atrocities during war should be dealt with. This poem was just a thought I had while studying history and visiting World War II museums.
Lieke May 2020
Round and round but no left no right
Rotation is no escape
Blood from the war stained us head to toe
My only treasure, I tried to prevent a scrape

Principles of decency were cancelled
Regardless guilty or innocent, was horror enforced
We scrambled past, two starved mice
As the hunt was relentlessly endorsed

But what didn’t survive the struggle for life
Was my lovely wedded wife.
7 May
Emma Jenny May 2014
Between the crosses
Row on row
John McRae

For the greater good
That's what they say

One day
For another
To succeed

One man
For another
To proceed

Oh the sorrow  
the devastation
Shots like hailstones
no tomorrow

Jubilee screams
Celebration

But the men they cry
in Depredation

Long Live Our Nation.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I got no more ***** on my arms, vaginal schemes and gospel psalms. Very private skinny tribes, lit up with oversized black lights. In the very end, everybody walks this way, they all move like idioms, they all wanna be lit up like stars. Some could be prevalent like cascading dreams, nauseous just like mesquite BBQ baby-back wings.

Fly away little bird, fly away. But don't try to leave
Or you won't get paid.

I know very well, just what kinda caption your capsaicin
Can be, lit up like honey blunts, golden stars on top of your christmas tree. Strawberry Swisher Sweets, Blueberry Dunhill flavors, poke your hand through the fence, make friendly on your neighbors. If you like Kimmel Live, Conan at Midnight too, recipes for the zombies, SS ****** Youth. Blow-up and be a party. Get off work and drink your check. Get down, get off- I'll show you. Just how Martin pays the rent.

— The End —