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A War of Death

  • Julia Pope
  • Mar 8
  • 1 min read

Death.

How does one deal with the deadly?

Dance around the fact,

Till death do us part.

Love is not more powerful than death,

The lord, supposed to save us, carries us up to the clouds

Or does the lord bury us underground?


What happens when the BOOM! BAM! CRACK!

Shots ring out?

The fight ended in a matter of seconds

The lord does not love us

Or does he?

In our world of hatred

Killing of the neighbor

Funeral of the friend.

Attended by only the other mourned.


Almost two million have moved on,

Brown boxes being shipped home

With the yellow and blue flags, half-mast.

The newest Red Army, retaliation.


Lifeless

Stiff as a stick,

Blood, whisked away, and gone from the bone.

The lord doesn’t react

As a matter of fact, he brings more graves


More caskets

More memorials

More dead.


Death.

It’s the lord's specialty,

In a world full of hatred,

Where the bombs go off, and borders are crossed

The lord controls death.

The lord wins all his fights.


We are all dead.

Death, it's our future.

 
 
 

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