Watching his parents blown apart or the parents extracting a small, lifeless form from the wreckage. A voice approaches the grieving parents assuring him that all was done within the bounds of warfare. Four Trent fixed Abroad scenes of wailing people haunt our screams carried in every pocket, every palm. Generations have been butchered, blown apart create a need, a call to action. Resonating echoing. So we take the streets or to our temples or commit unthinkable acts against seven year olds never pausing to reflect on our own luck
Hey, Garrett. What a powerful poem and just piece of work that you just read to us. Truly, truly encapsulating. And the background noises and everything definitely helped to heighten the moments as you were reading it. So very well done. This just really kind of puts everything into perspective