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Zainab Ibrahim May 2020
As the epitome of evil,
He lays there on the ground.

And with not a care in the world,
He lays there on the ground,
With relaxation on his mind.

As the harbinger of death and destruction,
He does not seem to care
As he diregards all of his production;
Anger, envy and dspair.

And as he lays there on the ground,
With relaxation on his mind,
Their hatred and his carlessness becomes entwined.
Sia Harms Feb 3
The mailbox was buckled
From so many unread words
Being forced through its tired
Opening.

Voices guffawed at the
Blaring junk papers that
Lined it, scrunched with the
Residue of dusty carlessness.

How many letters had simply
Been thrown in the dustbin?

How many envelopes were
Something more than stark
Black words on unfeeling
Paper?

The mailbox knew it was
Cruel, but it missed the
Times of war.

It missed the tear-stained
Paper and the words that
actually
                  meant
                                         something.

— The End —