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War"Oh say can you see?"
Can't you see people suffocating under the Gases?
"By the dawns early light."
Many men will not see dawn.
"What so proudly we hail."
What so proudly we die for our country........yah right there's no pride here.
"At the twilights las gleaming."
Machine guns kill hundreds, no misses, even through the night.
"Whose brought stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight."
Who do we fight for? At the end of the day were all just corpses, just dead.
"O're the ramparts we watch were so gallantly streaming."
Men run through no men's land a attempt that always fails as they fall....dead.
"And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air."
Bombs burst all around us killing hundreds, destorying out safe havens, our shelters.
"Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there."
The dead bodies are proof that we fought here, for years to come people will know our pain, our sacrifices.
"Oh say does that star spangel banner yet wave?"
When will this nightmare b
Nighting Gale Origins Chapter4
(six months later)
Alora was laying on the couch .alone. she didn't feel at home here. Richard was mean to her. She suspected it was because she reminded him of his friend Elissa, who had run away about a month before she arrived at the mansion. Alora looked up at the living room ceiling bored Then she heard footsteps and rolled onto her stomach and saw Alfred walking in. She opened her mouth to say hi when the book shelve opened and he walked in. Alora starred at the wall. Did that really just happen? She stood up and walked over to the shelve and it opened she ducked to the side as Alfred walked back out not noticing her. She slipped in a moved down the steps.
"Woah." Escaped her mouth. She heard a driving noise and turned to see headlights shinning down from a tunnel she go dove behind a random box and looked around. This was just weird she was in THE BATCAVE, question is did her dad know about it if Alfred did. She held her breath as she saw the batmobile pull into the cave an
T: for sexual themes.
Authors note: my first ever spitfire .anything other than my young justice story. I hope I did this couple justice. I just love them so much, so this takes place further in the future. Like when Wally and Artemis are actually together, this is my dream come true.
Summary: She turned her gaze away from his eyes and settled back on the mirror. Yet again she looked at the dark markings on her skin and tears formed in her eyes. "What's the matter?" came his tired voice and she turned to him starring in his bright green eyes which she swore looked straight into her soul. "Do you think my scars are beautiful?"
Disclaimer: I do not own young justice, if I did I would have a new episode on four times a week,
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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