be humble, live simply
Wars without names.
A bright red ball of wax slowly melts
under the unforgiving sun.
Old dogs play like children
and answer to names that we gave them.
The sentences we speak are whispers lacking
adjectives and adverbs, nothing but nouns and verbs.
Civilians die in wars without names, their survivors
have skins as thick as leather, skins like hides.
Ski…
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