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May 11, 2010
The lights are fading
And the mood is dim
The hearts stopped palpitating;
Countenance is grim
Ominous wind whispers and rustles
Through the past;
Clamour and bustle,
Words that always last
And the eyes that are bloody
Reach up to the sky
The soft faces that are somewhat ruddy
Never deserved to die.
The uniform is engulfed
In a smoke of the purest light
And the rifles are cleansed
After the poignant fight
A whisper, that touches-
Hearts that are made anew
What a brave life it is
For these courageous few.

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