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Can you tell the mother,
Her son died in vain?
His blood
Runs through her fingers,
Touching her soul.

Child. Son. Soldier. Slave.
His defense
To die this unknown
Battle or brawl
Bitter ending long defeat
Battered the unprotected,
Warless child.

Once withheld, forever lost,
One world
This nation
Rooted from above.
Raining acid rain,
Blotting our conscious conscience.
Once betrayed, forever blackened

If she could she would never have let him go.
Shaking her head;
Rocking to the beat of his heart.
When she remembers him,
Strong stories will be retold.
Her son the warrior,
Martyr and God.

He did his destiny to rescue,
The land he calls home.


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The following comments are for "A mothers tear"
by C.Lynagh

its meant to be rotting, not rooted

( Posted by: c.lynagh [Member] On: March 14, 2003 )

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