THE TRAGEDY OF WAR (an original poem)
The body,
silent,
but still a glow of anger
lies motionless in its bare wood coffin,
its memories
going through the past,
which is now all over,
A few hours later and the body
what remains
is buried
and to hold the agony
nobody watches
It stares
and then is gone
into the past
which is now all over
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