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On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground,
blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears,
a soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill
and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten

Friday, January 20, 2012

Hello Confusion

Moderated my firt panel and it didn't suck. So I think I'm off to a good start. Now safely ensconced at the bar. I'm in the cubicle to the far right if you want to say hi.

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