Poem: P O W

By: Andrew Trante

soldier3

Heads of Jute laid out in rows
Plastic binds instilling power
Soldiers no longer of humanity
Deliciously denigrated in silence

Power absolute in defeat
The Meat grinder craves flesh
Dishonoured, dispossessed
Fearing sounds of a breath

The silent walk of their God
His whispers bring flinch and fear
Sobs and cries bring boot replies
Silence terror rules supreme

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