Graves of The Common People

Location

Engraved on the same type of stone

Lime.

Unripe, despite its color

Sour, acidic, bitter—

 

Frantic, in disarray

While guns blaze

One side of death

The next, technological advance—

 

We wage war

With self,

We want,

We lack,

We claw,

We scratch.

 

For a season…

I pledge allegiance—

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