The Day The Soldiers Came
S
Shaun Cronick
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Two little feet run in desperation,
Barefoot, cut and bleeding.
Scampering anywhere but here,
Escaping from back there.
Crying uncontrollably,
The way an innocent can only cry.
Fleeing from an enveloping nightmare.
To simply seek a hiding place,
To huddle down in perfect peace,
Perhaps a chance to sleep.
Oh! To simply sleep.
And dream of better days.
But not of this day.
The day the soldiers came.
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