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Cries
November 4, 2011
I see the angels weep
Along the ancient bed,
The devil comes to reap
The mangled rows of wheat,
The grass our very souls
Tender and morose,
We see our cruelty rule
Over a broken land
We walk along the sand
And curse the weary hand
That sowed these seeds of life,
We hide our horrid heart
And blame the most apart,
Among the wretched and tried
A lonely child cries.
© Andrea J., Marblehead, MA
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