The cobblestones were wet with blood
traipsing out and among them
slipping feet tumble over
finding no comfort
rounded out and up again
To carry on limping
pursuing paths
perhaps those easier to trot
or get lost in the trying
murky river floats along
And windows broken from their sills
doors flapping open shut
the wind shrieks its haunted cry
through holes in walls
and deserted dinner tables
Hidden in cracks
and the unkempt hair
of the lost lambs
with their handkerchiefs
dangling beside their hollow bones
An abandoned current
slithers and makes flickers
adding to the buzzing choral hum
playing games with shadows
among the dried out filtered light
Among the clutter and the
rashly left behind memories
lie forgotten in stillness
on broken armchairs
and faded rugs
Lives left in the wake
of reckless disregard
that able-bodied men
with death bringing machines
brought about without a soul
Ordered from beyond the lines
as truth dissolved and made way
for something they thought
worth fighting for
ending up
Only devouring their own
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