How can we tell them that they are loved? by Jackie Biggs

I am not a silent poet

dust veils their faces

but their eyes stare out from our screens

dried blood streaks soft cheeks

shellshock programmes their stillness

their tears cannot run

yet they still fill their broken hearts

there is no more crying

in hell in their frozen world.

But let us show them, show them all,

that we still have tears.


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