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Terror Tide

Tiptoeing on bright day
The waves stole kids away.
The parents frantic ran to save
But they in turn were dragged to grave.
Now wandering the live grieve gone
Air reeks of rotten corpses born.
Thrown like rag dolls from ocean to
The shore. The live wail, "What to do?"
No answer comes. Bereft. Pyres burn
Could there be something we must learn?

Faye Ann

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