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Where Have All the Heroes Gone?
I can hear them crying.
I can see them whimpering.
They lay on the street.
A street reddened with hate.
Their calls,
Desperate.
Broken.
Silent.
Left unheard.
They are cold,
They are hungry.
They are wishing for a miracle.
I can hear their stomachs.
I can see their wounds.
I can smell their stench.
The stench of death.
I can see their hope.
I can see the ruin.
An ugly mixture.
It leaves their eyes murky.
It leaves me shattered.
I can hear the whispers.
I can feel the dark.
The clouds cover the sky.
Dark. Gray. Black. Red.
The colors of hate.
The colors of death.
The colors of a crumpling world.
I can hear the screams.
Day is only night.
I can see their blood.
It covers the roads.
It covers my hands.
It is everywhere.
Red. Black. Gray.
A scream is heard.
A wound is left untended.
It gets worse. It gets bubbly.
Another screech.
I'm awakened.
It is night.
Or is it day?
I can smell them.
I can hear them.
I can see them.
And in a world,
So broken as this one,
I am left wondering,
Where have all the heroes gone?
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