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The Sun Comes UpIt was a time when food and money were looked at with the same hunger, neither distinguishable from the other. Sickness prowled the streets of Germany and no home was safe from it, even if lambs blood was smeared across doorways.
A hollowness of the eyes was commonplace with only a flare of disgust filling the people when they saw their soldiers. The men who were supposed to protect and fight for their motherland had returned home failures, and the masses’ resentment pressed upon them. But it was by far an easier burden to bear than the malice the American soldiers received. Disappointment easily became a vehicle for rage, and woe unto those who suffered it.
Herr Iero, better known as Frank, was one such man that woe visited regularly and frequently was run over by rage.
Despite the title of Herr he was not in fact German but American and was trapped in the hostile and impoverished country. He had no money to go back home and in fact did not even have the legs upon which to walk
Take CareTo the young man who received my heart
Please take care of it
It's never been washed in alcohol
And though it fluttered and twisted
In tender affection
It was only once
So it should still run fine.
And to the little girl who now uses my lungs
To fuel her child shrieks of play
I want you to know they've never been
Purposefully filled with smoke
So the black fungus of cancer
Has not spotted the inside
And even though I've never
Been oppressed and bled out
By the disease diabetes
I hope my still young pancreas
Can bring freedom
To the one pinned beneath it
I may not be able to save the world
But at least I was able to save
As many as my body allowed me to
I stuffed myselfI stuffed myself full of what they wanted
Fed my body food with ingredients
Which I couldn’t even begin to pronounce
And bit by bit I began to slow down
Face miserable and bloated
As my body trudged forward
And my mind ran miles ahead
Worry lines were etched prematurely into my face
As I struggled and screamed
In the quicksand of their never-ending expectations
But my screams fell on deaf ears
And struggle soon gave way to apathy
Until I fell face first
And found I didn’t have the will to rise back up
What was the point?
I thought to myself
As my breathing turned shallow from the sand I swallowed
When all I would do was sink back down again?
What was the point of any of it?
With so much cruelty and ruthlessness
What is the point of this world?
When so much hate and bitterness rule our lives
And happiness eludes us by our fingertips.
The BostonI can barely breathe
I’ve been reduced to a mass
Of moving muscle and bones
My Mind has narrowed
To a pin prick
But I must go on
I must push myself
Forward, forward, forward
The end is so very near
A loud bang!
And screams reach my muffled ears
But I cannot stop
I can’t turn around
I have to finish!
Another bang to my left
Which cause even more screams
And it is then my sweat becomes ice cold
Something isn’t right
So many footsteps have fallen silent
There is such a vast emptiness behind me
And terror has suddenly welled up
Puncturing my lungs with its nails
And I want to throw up
From this onslaught of adrenaline.
But the finish line is so near
And I can escape this horrendous silence
If I just make it pass
To meld into the mass
I am caught in their arms when I cross the line
And it is in their arms I am held
When I am told that the hundreds
Behind me are dead
That I left behind so many corpses
It will be this field of death
I run on over and over again in my nightma
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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