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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Be forewarned.. a lot of my writings may not make sense to most, and most of you will say they are not poetry, but thats ok.... i feel what i write and i write what i feel. this ones about ... well you tell me what it means to you.

Submitted: February 09, 2008

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Submitted: February 09, 2008



The sound of beating drums, deafens the soul
the ground trembling under toe, the soliders march on
war cries echo through out the land
flags raise high and proud
a moment of horrid silence causes panic
colliding with the force of violent mother nature
both sides become entangeled
sparks fly as swords connect
shields shater and splinter with all this force
the screams of death and pain are unleashed
blood seems to rain from the heavens
but the is no god here
no mercy, no soul left living on this blood soaked and vile land
the pain and suffering will not cease
it will not cease until the last breath is stripped from these men
these soldiers, these warriors
days, weeks, years
turn into stale and vivid moments
the struggle remains
the slaughter goes on an eterinity
this rampage
this war
this conflict
is not fought in a distant land
nor is it carried out by strangers
this waging war is deep within
deep with in my thoughts, it is my life, my breath , my everything, my nothing
sacrafice what you know to be reality


Twisted Illusions
copyright Sept. 5, 2007

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