Mourning

Happy is the young,

The old say.

Full of dreams

And joy.

Amazons,

Born to lead on

The way.

But darkness

Strikes,

Taking them

Away.

Tears can’t dry

On the wrinkles,

How could they?

When a parent

Mourns his child

GONE

In smoke

And fire.

Rising souls,

To heaven,

Angels,

Lead our way.

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