pierce the linens and search the sea side
for the war that did once reside
on these battered lands of now dry sands
and turbulence that did abide
dried bones and the leaves of autumn
the winds of battle torn faces
that breathe now only ashes
lock it in, the target lost
cease fire those missiles
the rebel base just dust
nothing but that bitter breeze..
it fills one with such unease
they must have abandoned station
to save their own beaten down nation
they hadn't the strength to endure
even one more fatal blow
dried bones and the leaves of autumn
the winds of battle torn faces
that breathe now only ashes
I am flown half mast.
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