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Within the last of the tomb



Within the last of the tomb
Are fresh and quick sand

The hairs rough and needed comb
Whom the owners sought for a land


When bitterness taste like it is from honeycomb
Men stood and roll their last band

Not of victory but cry of a lost womb
Of a child who was at hand

Those left behind blasted by a bomb
Their remains soon would turn manure sold for few rand

Within the last of the tomb
Are bodies which testify failure of a magic wand.

By J_amaze.
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