Here spilled blood flows clear ,
Muddied streams, they hold souls ,
Every raindrop holds a curse, icicles are spears ,
For the string of thugs , your fates, lies cannot clean
Yet rain on your families , your children ,
Theirs' to carry the burden , the dead never forgive...
Be it here or there , cruel your minds' scabs,
Festers within your souls , the decay , the stench,
It all coats , volcanic ash over a nation
Stench through time, the red has colored the earth,
This decay, seeps deep within the nation's soul...
Poem by PC-3( 07/13/2026)
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