beinmyshoes
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With time none a knowledge,
The other side blotches red.
Of what a dictatorship I observe
Grows a seed of harsh rule.
I watch tree branches die withered bark
As you’re attacked upon which I only hear.
I would like to know,
How you could handle in my shoes.
Their soles are worn down to my own heel,
And the sides have been torn apart.
Some what like silence shatters in a whisper.
