Memory

The greed of man, will cause us to bleed.
We self guaranteed for us: man/kind to disagree.
For we torn ourselves into fractures into many. kindling our own tinderbox.
Who will mourn when the bleeding kills us all?

Leaving everything war-torn, going beyond the blood shore.
No body will clean the floor; no more monotony staining floor.
What we were left to unseen decaying, everything becomes more clean.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace