one thought here, another one there; ten more are on the way


the trenches are deep, filled with blood, when you bled so much that day


the attacks are precise as if known before

the enemy slithers near the door


he seeks to destroy and to kill

with whatever can give him his fill


no thought of who you are or what you could be

it’s of no import nor is it about me


fills your heart and your head

making you seek to be but dead


if people would only see

the battle that separates you and me


they’d know we’re all the same.

filled with emotion, it’s not a game


they’d see me dying a very slow death

wishing much more for my very last breath

donna marie

2 thoughts on “reaching

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