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Eyes

Look out of the window,
What do you see,
A street full of people,
As noisy as can be?

Perhaps you see a meadow,
With lush grass of green,
With cattle moving forward,
Far too easily seen.

Maybe you see a battlefield,
One which you once called home,
People fleeing here and there,
From weapons made of chrome.

Do you see a garden,
With flowers growing tall?
Forgetting the less fortunate
Are even there at all.

Did you tick all the boxes?
Maybe could you say,
Your life could change at any time
In the world today.

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One Comment

  1. I enjoy the flow in which you write.
    Nicely penned, my friend!

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