by Marius Surleac
hell is beyond the grey blocks –
the desert where no human skeletons
resisted to erosion, but became part of
the screams represent the only voice
of those suffering souls
that moan when the sun rises
this morning is different
no more whispers before the attacks
nor guns spitting fiery ashes
just the awaiting under the frightening
feeling of justice in each unconquered mind
rules the tormented hordes
***
I make my way through the minuscule magnets –
those tiny mechanisms fly away
tomorrow I won’t be the same
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