Fields burn in endless flame,
Not a farmer kept their name.
The lands are bare, servers stare,
And blood drips down in pools of shame.
To whale and starve, quit so pathetic,
Their tears for heavy anesthetic.
The blood does not forget the dead,
The dead are souls stopped in their stead,
That fell upon the earth so green,
And rise to heaven so angelically.
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Comments1
Very powerful. Sad yet beautiful at the same time the way you have expressed it. 🌹
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