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The Battle House

I pass small town wonders lit by old neon lights
Dark storefront facades which age overnight
Tread softly through the Battle House halls
Where orders were bellowed and trumpets did call
To summon the soldiers to war against brothers
And rob them of life, and make widows of mothers.

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Still

Stream
The river flows without remorse
Sunlight mirrored in its train
And the waters run around the rocks
Headed nowhere slowly, with naught to gain.

Mind
Many voices speak without a sound
In the silence of December
The years go by and life moves on
Leaving tokens of the past to remember.

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