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Maxwell, I hear them, don't you?
was the last thing I heard as our
door was stormed and hope flew
from my life. It was the final hour
of us in home, cast far in dread
as we were shoved out the door
the cold steel pressing my spine ahead
watching back is horror as my wife hits the floor
struggling against cold reality, my teeth grind
feeling the anger swell up in me, can't control it
thoughts of hate pass over and plague my mind
as a feeble attempt to run is greeted with a bullet.
©2003-2009 ~eoh
:iconeoh:

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Written- 1/03

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Thanks for the entry! Good Luck :) (Smile)

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January 3, 2003
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