My Son, Far Away
In the sunny gloom of this
ocean of burning Earth,
the scythe of time hovers like
a hungry vulture above us
men of "honorable" duty, but thankfully,
for my weary heart, this
graveyard of sand is never too far
from my son, far away.
We are but men, not Gods,
for every death my hands effect
I kneel closer to my own.
Only...
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