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Silent nights bring silent hearts to silent streets,
Covered in dust, ash, rubble, and spent casings still smoking,
Mental and physical walls bar the way,
The blood still fresh on the pure white stone,
Excruciated faces attached to huddled curled up forms
Clutching gaping wounds that will never heal,
Wartime psalms sung in solemn whispers through broken teeth,
Meaning ceases to matter as more and more bodies are fed to the dirt,
Broken bloody men that once walked with gods
Only to be killed by loud flashing demons in their innocent faces.
