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They put a bullet
Through my chest
And thought I’d rest.
Then another
Through the brain
And thought it a
One-sided game;
And yet,
I lived.

These strings that I weave,
Ideas that breathe,21568693_116405145698925_421798563362635776_n
Words that capture
And movements
They create,
Will rise
Through the pool of my blood.

These bullets give birth
They fire anger
These weapons of mass destruction
Gone wrong.

The more you fire
To silence,
The more they’ll fire up
In protest.
An epidemic will rise
Through the pool of my blood.

-These ideas are the Lankesh you wanted to kill but alas! You never will.

 

  • A Confused Muggle

Poems

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