April 4, 2010
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From the darkest of dark place, a faint cry is never heard. Its silent whispers pray for a world without war.
Cowering in the conner praying not to be then next chosen one,
With a bang and a boom, the door burst open’s two men drag out the shapeless figure from the straw made hut.
To us it would look like two guys holding on to something our eyes haven’t focused on yet.
But there are more silent whisper’s and tears in the darkest or dark place’s,
Will you answer the prays of the invisible?

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