

PoemBy their broken wings you shall know them, For the feathers shall fall like rain, To the ground they will drift, And pile there like snow.Poem
Their backs shall be bowed, Their eyes swollen red, Marks will mark them as the beaten slaves, Bound to work til death.
Hope will be gone, Love shattered on the ground, Peace will be a memory, Redemption never found.
For lost are we all, Yet few know the truth, We are bound and broken here, All hidden by a shroud.
you need to write more >3>
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Excited and screaming, their voices go wild
And rise with the birds mating up in the pines
Down to puddles that breathe, covered by leaves
With mud they'll make prints on their backs
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