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Poems

Witness #145

Volume 14, Issue 2  | 
Published 30/10/2017
  |

imagine

the stifled voices, 
words falling silent
on still tongues;

a long breath, blowing
itself out, hope seeping
away into nothing;

eyes that blink,
then shutter, once,
twice, forever;

fingers curling, grasping
at smoke and hope,
as a clenched fist falls;

and the stench, rising,
from the still smouldering
remains of justice.

I am tired
and it continues…
and it continues…
and it continues…

I am tired
and it continues
not
to

 

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Last modified on Tuesday, 31 October 2017 01:36

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