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His Lost Tune MAG
He lays in rubble, buried like a corpse;
Crescendos and all, buildings fall dethroned;
Soft feet, wide eyes, big cheeks, besieged by force;
A melody of booms, worlds can explode.
Faint mewls and whimpers, caved in by debris,
No human can see past all the wrecked stone;
Their brazen faces and stomps aim to flee;
Beneath their soles, an alternate war zone.
Dust seeping into each pore, he decays
Not even a sad, shrieking mother left,
On screen I see news drowned by disarray;
The gales that choke and burn met with neglect
“A baby found dead, midst strikes in Kunduz”
Let’s spread his name, his story, his lost tune.
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This piece is related to the bombings and intense destruction in Syria, resulting in the death of countless innocent lives.