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Grasping for withered hope

To this poison love we all cling

False mercy

Death in bloom Opportunistic vultures

Bones of workers picked clean

Torch wielders

Street sweepers

War promise

Burning down the night

I will hold you with molten arms

Look upon you with eyes of matted tar

You tremble with fear at your creation

It's shadow spills over like an army of starving kids in the trench

I will give them weapons

I will send them against you