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Dead End Road

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Scars clung to their skin
with their sharp claws.
Black and blue bruises looking like a
bright moonlit sky on an October evening.
Their bodies lay as still as statues in their Tucson home.
Bullets buried behind body parts brought
silence to the rooms.
The aroma of deceased bodies filled
the room as it swayed over the stained
and blood-soaked furniture.
Their souls,
soundlessly soft,
sheds tear streams down my face.
Shocking death is nothing more than
life crashing into a dead end road.





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