March 19, 2018
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Red white and blue blood drips
From the script in the hands
Of the man in charge
With a spool of thoughts and prayers he tries
His best to bind the threadbare fabric
Of a tragic nation
But words quickly burn under
The heat and thunder of
Semi-automatic fire
While we try to knit a nation of kevlar
So far from the flames that
We cannot feel the heat
But it will be burn us
Unless we learn to act
And fast
Because those barriers of prayers
Won’t last

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