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Hills

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As the bodies lay there, cold and motionless the survivors, fight to stay alive. We could smell the sweet smell of freedom after so long. We make our way through the carnage to reunite with loved one's who weren't forgotten, but lost. We fought so long to stay alive. After so long, living in the poor conditions, we must start over. We are like gypsies now, moving form place to place. Tears of young one's, who are alone now in this big world are now familiar with war, survival, and torture. We have to leave, but to go where? The hills that we see, lead us to somewhere. Somewhere better than here we hope. Does freedom await us, or does torture? Sacrifice is what we must make. To live. To be free. And here on out, we are now free people, like we once were.



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