This is a work in progress...
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minutes brimming empty
where wandering thoughts
arrest a scattered spirit
and deposit a soul ill at ease
the overflow speaks, sputters
out from crumpled hearts
to fall misshapen on top
the ground, mud-covered
a lone wilted, weary traveler
dumps heavy burdens of cold stone
alongside hearts mistaken
for quiet love and mercy tender
an inclined ear to pity's plea
awake and tend the battle
a wise one must in wartime make
a firm stand for what most matters
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