Thursday, December 29, 2005

A Few Dead Men

Behold the sounds of footsteps, creeping on you from behind,
A shallow growl of darkness – a mark of death – unsigned…
Shadows taking forms, crawling men with guns on their backs,
Shocking lights; Pungent smells; Eyes staring from the shacks...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

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