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Copyright@ butterflydream (shey)fire, fire, burning bright lights fantastic through the night the flesh, the flesh, burnt to the bone nothing left to send back home children, children pick them clean watch this hatred fill the streams ashes, ashes fill the holes never living to grow old smoke, smoke choke on the flesh burning embers all that's left mother, mother so sorry now i should've turned back i did not know how father, father i hope you're proud your son's bones sent home to you now... shey Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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