looking outward to the seas to see,
oceans full, full to the brim,
devoid of water they were.
They foamed with blood,
a broth of crimson,
endlessly did the tide return,
the waves naught but tears.
The soldiers fought,
lived loved and died;
and though the wars had ended,
the truths they held were lies
I dreamt somewhere upon a cliff,
looking outward to the seas to see,
devoid of water the blood came home,
tears raining,
perpetually raining from the sky.
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