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Rosa Torres

War

child who cries for parents in a broken
down battlefield bringing him to
realize an unkind truth.
bodies piling up, shots ringing,
cries in vain in front of
deaths cruel eyes.
Ignorant to their surroundings, marching
on like puppets on a string following
commands.
acidic smell, not a single, remnant
of what use to be happiness left behind.
surrounded by corpses, a single child
standing in the middle of the road,
dead look in his eyes crying for help.

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