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Ill-fated

The Ill-fated after the bombing  dead children everywhere like an exploding dollmaker's factory Tomato sauce and noodles  a parade of the inhuman Presidents are helpless their country is helpless while they slept all power lost A chorus arises, and songs  drown in thunder  We are the masters we were the chosen Cumulus clouds will ask we see and hear doomed humanity Shivering, we wait for the last bomb to drop 

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things