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Raging rhetoric rises

Frail and failing folks

Tapped out

Buried under words

Ideological landslides

Cover the evidence

Of neglect and decay

Kings and Queens of the

Dung heap

Make promises

No one believes anymore


Still polishing crowns

Rolling out the carpets

Blaring trumpets cry

No more blindness

No one can hear it

Over the sound of their own


After the storm vents

Skies clear and blue streaming

With rays of golden light

The hill sprouts with kindness

A thousand little leaves

Of hope

Growing wildly from the

Wreckage wrought

From the philosophical


green grass in tilt shift lens photography
Photo by shivaraj s on

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