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Back and forth, the ascended, Leaders hurl their followers, Into the bloody abyss upended, Neither of them can be bothered,
Save the ones who do the dying, There's nothing left for the tyrants, But to gather up more kindling, To appease the smoldering silence,
Mourning melts grief into anger, Brooding saviors rise to avenge, Oblivious, now of the danger, Their prideful posture does pretend,
Power maims to gain the ground, Casts bold shadows across fear-ed's face, Yet, reaps the bare Earth where death stands, Disturbs dust which was laid to waste,
Shrouds the martyr's bloody veil, Soils the tyrant's immaculate cloak, Yet, Mesopotamia will prevail, To spite the war its descendants spoke.
-- Ron Fullwood (6-10-2006)
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