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Death of the Abolitionist
You keep running through the trenches,Ignoring the dead beneath your boots;Time trails silently behind. It’s dark —The world painted in shades of green,Blood turns black,Seeping from mangled bonesAs you step over them. You glance back.Between twin flames of burning trees,You see her —Fading slowly into your essence,Her hand in yours,Guiding you forward. Footsteps thunder across…