grief demands answers
but they will be given to
no one without the weight
of searching scalpels
and Y shaped scars
grief demands answers
but they will be given to no one
except when the fallen speak
in black tongues and iron screeds
we stand on the souls
of those we keep
and sow the seeds
of selective memories
that start to synthesize
the narcotic myths
of life and triumph
and the sad songs
of love and death
that keep us awake
to reap another sun

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