to betray when young
is an act of innocence
once in blood we
rose and rejoiced
to take land to make
a fist of famine
our victory an iron bed,
two cows, a cart
first came the sour
looks and then lots
they came for the
frail and failed
they came for the
fit and fresh minded
those of us left
turn twisted lies
now cold and old
past principles die
those who could
cry covered in soil
to betray when innocent
is the curse of youth
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Welcome and thanks for dropping in. I'll pop by yours by and by.
This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.