Modern Victory

A poem I was asked to publish...

Shafts of light streak across a once dark world, 

bodies littered on all sides,

a single man rises and sees his long gone dream,

and realizes it was vanity,

he claims what is his,

he'll dream of dead children,

whose ragged lungs exhale blood,

clouding his thoughts,

and impairing his will,

the dead will claim him,

and we will not forget,

for history is no longer written by him

 

 

The End

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