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what is it that we do
to make ourselves of less
than words
than tears
we never dry
for sleepless nights
and children tucked
away in nothing better
than we would give
to those
so not like us
differences
I wonder
more than flesh and bone
and words
were never heard
(but echo still)
what language
bears the burden
of tomorrow
what selfless soul
will grieve for
innocence