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Desolate as Dresden
These battles
Have left my body
As pockmarked and soiled
As an old dirt road
My soul as desolate as Dresden
After the bombs made the fires dance
Dead as the aftermath of Hiroshima
Just give me one shell-shocked day
To pick the gravel
From these rag doll knees
To selectively line up
A memory or a few
And fire away
To clear a little space
For your new lies
That spew from your mouth
Like shells from a munitions factory
To take inventory
Of these battle scars
