~ But a scribble with some doubt,
he may wither but not shout
little tears start to drop,
little bones start to pop
dripping down goes the blood,
dark and messy is the flood
the aching pain has gone away,
the uneasy mind has gone to stray
the age of wonder
has yet to plunder
the freedon cost
a holocaust,
and yet a taste of water
is nothing but a bother
then again comes the slay
leaving restless on the hay
nothing other than to say,
my little soul has gone away.~
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