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PTSD (Remove filter)

Ricochet

Shells fly overhead,

            dust kicking up in the air

filling the lungs,

            and choking the life

            from the blank eyes.

Staring up wide eyed and teary

            as the life slips away,

Laying there bare to the bone

            stripped of the soul

            lost to the sea of dust and rubble

            laying underfoot of the building

...

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poetrywar poetryPTSD

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