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Words

We live in a wired and weird world
where meanings of our words
are paper-thin tissue and torn
tarnished and worn by wear and War.

© M.L.Emmett
I watch the city burn
Through the vignette windows
Of tear-gassed souls.

And hell's fire ablaze
Between cracks of tears
Of childhood fears
For girls,
Always be that beautiful butterfly ,which is hard to catch..


For boys,
And always be that bad boy, with a good heart...
Down the long, hard road we trudge and find
Others judged, inalienably, our kind
For to test the vapors floating there
We all must gird to be prepared
To differ in our judgement call
Then come to terms, as brothers all,
To weather storms of good and bad....
Then proudly wear what must be had.

M.
Ernest consideration after re reading Nat Lipstadt's tome:
"The Quality of Commitment".
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