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Final Strike
confusion overtakes you
as the fog swallows the leaves above
leaving wind soundless
when you boil the sea
rain falls
and yet you ask why
as a child
shocked by thunder
hiding like a rat
gnashing your teeth
on wood and wheat
seeking a retreat
death comes for your kin
like anthills in a concrete mold
boasting of great strength
yet in this moment eternal
the fear and confusion ever so swallows
and remains is the sound of fear
in statues of your kin
mouth agape
as if to ask "why?"
when patience is rewarded with pain
and violence is rewarded with silence
what do you have left?
open your mouth
and ask me again.
try not to swallow your tongue.
Copyright ©
Ramael Vosem
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