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Thinking Lincoln

How a little ball of molted lead
has changed our nations history
and why they shot him in his head
became a shrouded mystery

Theories popped up everywhere
no suspects were exposed
and every answer that was spoke
more questions they arose

Thirteen score, no less no more
since the last tear hit the ground
and through the years of hopes and fears
the truth was never found

I sometimes think, that's it's a plan
That the good ones must die young
and while we grieve, we must believe
they go because they're done

It is Now, up to us
to carry out His goal
even though, why He was killed
The world will never know

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 12/11/2015 9:32:00 PM
I've read a few of your poems and have notice your straight forward look at life, no drama just straight to the point..reminds me of one of the poets I follow from Australia, Peter...as for Lincoln he was killed for the same reason the rest have been killed for..fear knocked on the door and those who are frightened let him in...
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