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Here stands a man.
With a bullet in his clenched right hand.
And he has the power to crush this land.
Shaking as he runs to his fellow soldiers.
His war is over,
but the bullets, still cutting the air.
His shelter, dust
and his home, rubble.
So here stands a man,
Falling through a hole he has made.
Still sweating from the adrenaline.
This is a sad boy.
Made himself love his war because he knew if he feared it,
It would kill him faster.
Don't push him loved one,
Because he truly has the power to crush this land,
I'm a stroke of a hand.
Don't you ever leave him alone.
Because the pain that he has filtered into laughter will bury him.
Just like he has buried his fellow soldiers.
His family in war,
Stomping on the dried up land.
He feels at home.
His war is over but another one has begun,
For he is alone.
He is a sad boy.

- c•l•c

.18 the war.

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