Our Bones

It is not the enemy across the foreign lands that we fear
It is our blood gurgling with fatal desire
Our bones riveted with fire
What we can make of ourselves after our tears 
The inability to suppress the chemical reaction 
That surges through the melancholic parts
And recharges the human response to hurt their hearts
Until there is no one left standing to see the damage done 
Except the children playing in the streets of blood. 

-anna sluder

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