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Poem: America

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Tired eyes raise to the golden walls

Their grey tears mirrored by the savior’s eyes

The hard brown pews bring infinite comfort

To the lost innocents who preside here in the red city.

Here, in the dense black rooms

Death awaits in shades of black brighter than yesterday’s fire

Yet a blue flame, in contrast, burns bright in their hearts

Its embers crackling with a song of freedom.

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