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7 Poems
every time there is a gunshot,
another boy dies in cold blood.
the atmosphere is tense,
the sun is standing still,
heels are touching heads.
there’s a festival of blood
going on at the town square,
men are dressed
in wolf clothing.
baring claws, spreading scars
everything that man needs to live
and to kill himself is near.
Victor Oyedele
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One comment
QueenBeeba
January 30, 2022 at 1:23 am
Beautiful poetry. More grace to you all.