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8h
As the ice froze with discontent while the sun rays shined through a solemn sky as we ask the big question why do the living have to die. With lies of the ****** shown through the eyes of the wicked. Hiding the truth behind there parliament whistles and flutes. How would they know the lives of a soldier when they have never been to war. Casting there votes in the hope of peace away from striped uniforms who make women and men from girls and boys. As there dreams turn to nightmares in a chaotic battle for good over evil. With all different faces fighting against their enemies in all different places. Through chaos and storms this the normal life of the armed uniforms.
This is a poem for my friend Craig who's bruva stood strong and proud in the queen's guards.
Written by
Neil Mcpake  50/M/London
(50/M/London)   
20
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