Just Another Ode

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Black Thursdays and Sundays,grief filled Mondays

Cannot compare to bullet ridden sons

Bodies laden with roses and barely used guns

They die hoping it was all a phase

Broken and bent,their lives so well spent

Scarlet saliva colours their throats

Too sudden to wonder where it all went

For country and kin,go as you're sent

Flags fly high as the young die

Tears drip a sudden slip,watering gravestones of cold patriot stone

To die in defence of your country is still to die alone

Poetry;my depravity. A manic insanityWhere stories live. Discover now