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Path of Glory

March 14, 2017

Air sirens rang out, there’s barely time to get home.

The tired and the malignant are where they need to be.

Turned away from my home, I never should have been there.

The tidings aren’t less untold because I would never survive them.

The air strike blasts the night and I’m only worried about her.

What can I do? It’s not that I didn’t go look or reach.

There’s a point, a phrase or something more important

that I can’t recall, because I’ve gone far too under.

There’s a fight and it’s told by those who survived the great assumption.

Thank God, or not, I’m not one to survive.

The world reconsidered its stake in its survival,

but I’m not in that equation, thank God I didn’t find her.

From → Poems

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