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Insanely Inane Thoughts

If fate doesn't make you laugh, you just don't get the joke.


The smoke rises,
hail of metal,
collapsed quarters,
resurrected spirits.

In this world of hate and anger,
the sun shines like an enraged king,
the wind wails like a grieving mother,
the rain drowns cries for help,
the blood flows thicker than water.

The birds rise before his eyes,
he throws his savaged soul like
an empty bowl,
which echoes with silence,
the beggar who chose to play dumb,
walks down the road of deserted dreams

A little further down,
the street of hope,
where children play games of war,
with little intent but
dangerous consequence.

The sky is still,
the bird flies its course,
carrying its message,
a thousand deaths.

The smoke rises,
hail of metal,
no longer a street of hope,
but the games continue.

A world apart,
the beggar hears,
not seeing,
he speaks,
of victory.

Oceans of hate,
rivers of anger,
gurgling somewhere is
a trickle of love.

In a world of starved hearts,
she chose to linger,
not a question of love is where
but are you there?

Another day,
another street,
this could be,
where you dream.
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