We are alone today. Amongst the empty bullet shells we tread. Amongst the dead bodies we scour. Scouring for our dead fathers. Yearning for our dead mothers. Calling for our dead brothers. The soil beneath, parched, scorched our very soles. On our knees we fell, onto familiar graves and tasted the earth with our blood tainted hands. In our palms it
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I'm sure it's copyrighted, but if you're not going to be making any money off the publication perhaps you'll want to use it.
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