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Fighting for Freedom

By
Fighting for Freedom

“Who’s left standing?, let’s tally the dead.”
“I’m fine, not a scratch on my head!”
“Don’t feel sad, it had to happen.
At least the fought and died like men.”

That’s what was said,
And it resonates in my head.
But with all that was left unsaid,
What was left to tell?
The tale of a million madmen,
Or the story of a few brave ones?
The epic journey of heroes,
Or the downward spiral of a “master plan”?

The sad siren song for the dead
I regurgitate for the tenth time,
Hopefully the last time.
The torture of a funeral
I attend for the tenth time,
Hopefully the last time.
Did it have to happen,
Or was that what was said to keep us happy?
Well I tell you now,
No one here feels uplifted.

I never counted what I had until it was taken away.
I can’t leave here but I don’t feel that I can stay.
I guess I’ll run away in my mind,
And leave this world behind for a while.





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