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Copyright@ JuliusceasarI survey the landscape before me, the destruction is total. We have scarred the earth, tearing lumps of its flesh, throwing them skywards in our anger. Orange flames mirror the brillant sunset, beauty in God's creation alikened to human montrosity, dazzling in its destruction, charring the mangled corpses strewn across my vision, burning everything to nothing, removing the evidence of our crime. How can all this devastation be picture perfect? Copyright@ Juliusceasar Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem |
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