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Black Smoke

From the death camps of Europe
Black smoke unfurled into the speckled sky
Plumes of wispy ash coiling from the chimneys
Touching the tips of the Earth
Mixing with the gray billows of clouds
Raining back down to the dirt
Swallowed inside the soil
To be reborn
As a flower
Or a blade of grass
But just remember as you pick the daisies
Could they have once been children?





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