Danielle Bettke


Standing still, looking forward and confused, the men cry and hug and blame,
Fists raised in anger, screaming and charging into the darkness,
Where their time may come to an end, through the light of the tunnel,
Men crawl and pant, struggling to see past the brightness,
Roads, valleys and mountains form in front of them, pushing them to their limits,
Burn, rub and blister,
Men attempt to stand and run but the weak holds them back, they fall
The weak lay motionless, hot, and finished

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