The times are dire,

as we cover our days,

in hope and satire.


Reckoning its return,

We put band-aid on the past,

And on bridges unburnt.


The time is limited,

to reach out to the moon,

and somehow in our lives,

nothing happens too soon.


We find our ways to live,

with our spine and hands,

covering the difference,

that you'd never understand.


The war is far from over,

no punishment for the crimes,

but then the wind changes,

in only a matter of time.

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