A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.


Most devilish alchemy,
Transmuting death,
From Liberty,
How brave the truth
That stands,
Eternally proud,
Against such ruthless flailing,
Where all become,
In honour's failing,
The enemy of a few,
Bitter, cheapened lives,
Whose blood
Now mingles
With the freedom
So despised,
A short taste for them,
In their final breath,
Of how we dream,
Of what our burden's for,
To live with love,
Each day for more,
No destiny
Upon some further shore.
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