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  • Writer's pictureGarathe Den


What vision is thought

Of a crafted nation

Where hope is a patch

In a misdirection

Give peace as a prize

To a novel tyrant

Yet no grasp can be made

Why violence is defiant

Blanket terms

Spread without meaning

To pattern conviction

While it draws them seething

They want identity

Yet their lives are vacant

Because the actions we have taken

Are discomposed and blatant

A people of habit

And they've justified evil

A cycle unfolding

All assuredly lethal

More eyes cast aside

More ignorance birthed

In a silent submission

A diminish of worth

Rags worn and knotted

That can no longer function

Unraveled and torn

To express its destruction

The eye of the needle

Linking the chains

A flag sewn together

Just an illusion to reign

Shine these stars

Spread the scavenger's wings

Let it soar on the myth

To embroider their Kings

A tapestry woven

To a doctrine's decree

A law forced in violence

To a land they call free

These trails all flooded

With the tears of the living

Lost in the graves

Under pavement and fittings

While the monuments last

Brightly polished and deeming

Of the force of control

And all that it's scheming

For none have escaped

From the binds of division

A sorcery cast in the mind

With precision

To twist and conform

The very heart of a person

Till they've become a product

Or lie broken and orphaned

These symbols are gathered

And all bound together

Where an autopsied corpse

Meets the mortician's pleasure

Painted and pampered

While embalmed of it's members

To be left on display

And forgotten, as memoirs

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