When the shouts of escape
the ranting of the long mouth
must have deafened the ear
of the opened space.
Filled it with sorrowful sounds
to pull blood out of it.
Running up and down
trees parting ways
feet peeling off its shell
nails chewing the dust.
Fouls fooling the folly foes fanning the fame of fury.
Let them wander on this wonderful land
filled with sleeping skulls
playing round the filed
seeking peaceful journey to the sea
to be seen no more.
Let the water write down
of their effects in the legendary note.
Stained with the color of the future
the moon runs to the cave to seek peace
sun flee backward searching for lost souls.
Mingling in the drops of bullets
basking under the skin of the grass.
When the field must have been dry
rusty skinny guns lost
bloods drunk to stupor by soil
then wait a little while
for I will be back someday
when I cease to be called war.
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