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Literature Text
Daughters, Brothers, sisters and sons; what’s left of their entity is crumbled to dust no more tears, no more cries
The screams made the pain that was vast is now an imprint in the sorry cracks of their bones
The hollow structure of that child’s skull cracked and abused by that maces edge left it like a broken shell
The dust covered hip bone the toothless scream frozen ever in time in a way an image but not
They havoc upon the ground caused lives and souls lost now bones of various forms without an appease or mercy
The sun hot, drying and crumbling the faded bones soon unrecognisable like the words on a page when torn
That laughter once emanated from the now broken walls the cries once made louder than the crashing bowls
Here they are now no more pain no more happiness not even a generation to tell the tale
Now just today and a brush discovering what was destroyed what was lost and what was murdered
History was made then but it’s now that we see it after centuries of isolation the bones are free
Free from what though? Free from the repeating picture story the souls must see? That of which being bloodshed?
Each Victim Born from the ground Let’s live a story untold Story’s holding questions in the their bones
The screams made the pain that was vast is now an imprint in the sorry cracks of their bones
The hollow structure of that child’s skull cracked and abused by that maces edge left it like a broken shell
The dust covered hip bone the toothless scream frozen ever in time in a way an image but not
They havoc upon the ground caused lives and souls lost now bones of various forms without an appease or mercy
The sun hot, drying and crumbling the faded bones soon unrecognisable like the words on a page when torn
That laughter once emanated from the now broken walls the cries once made louder than the crashing bowls
Here they are now no more pain no more happiness not even a generation to tell the tale
Now just today and a brush discovering what was destroyed what was lost and what was murdered
History was made then but it’s now that we see it after centuries of isolation the bones are free
Free from what though? Free from the repeating picture story the souls must see? That of which being bloodshed?
Each Victim Born from the ground Let’s live a story untold Story’s holding questions in the their bones
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