Sword in hand the soldier leaps over
his fallen foes to plant his flag of victory.
As the dying cry at his feet and try to,
beg for mercy from his merciless self.

Beauty past compare, a woman stands alone,
is she a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister?
But most people can only see one thing about her
That she stands beautiful and stark naked as the truth.

A deep sigh taken, when sighs grow finite,
keeping track of these moments on the clock’s face,
they sit with together on a bench and laugh, maybe a last,
their eyes seem to look at the merciless soldier.

A little girl cries, silent tears heard by no one,
yet they scream in the ears of those who look at her.
You can tell how she hurts when you look around and see,
people to share the pain lie still, feeling no more.

A girl clutches his hand tight, as if he were a part of her,
he patiently walks slowly, keeping pace with his sister,
describing in detail, each moment captured in the gallery,
for she had no means to look, could only see with sound.

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