Falling People Poem by Eli McCallister
Falling People
Fall from the sky and hit the ground.
Trace the bodies of the dead, like they're
stick figures morphed to the streets.
Deformed people pooled with blood,
a crimson red that will stain
the toughts of thousands.
This wont be the end of the massacre,
in fact
it's just the beginning.
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5/4/2024 8:52:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
