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Inane (II)

Molten metal dropping down a burnt cheek,
Bleeding bullet holes in the corner of an eye,
Mouldered lungs breathing noisily in a haze,
Pierced girl under a putrid tree.

A half-dead creeping past
Incinerated children he once knew,
A hopeless weeping through
The mortal remains of defunct people.

Some are breathing fire and brimstones,
Much cry and little wool,
Nothing can be done to save them anymore.

An old man left to famish towards nothing
With two mildewed bread crumbs.
A newborn near to the cot death lying
In a room next to the mother’s not minding.

Vultures over corpses on dead ember,
Wood coffins shimmering in filthy blood,
Festered wounds on an expectorating’s body,
Stifled girl under a putrid tree.

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