Red RiversMature

I dont know just poem that came to me

Flowing,

Moving,

Washing the blood away.

Churning,

Groaning,

There's nothing left to say.

The river runs red,

 With blood from us and our bodies dead.

Our family's loved ones tears run like lead.

No one left to hear us cry,

When they leave our corpses in the river to die.

And to say there favorit word one last time.

Goodbye.

The End

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