BANG! some other crump hole, Amongst the field of many, The shine we big for, Hides itself amongst the dirty clouds, While the percipient of a shell, Greets us with grief. Another mean solar sidereal day, with so many wounds, And another day with so many horrors, somewhat try to peg unwrap, Others go on on fighting, For the freedom they desire, But not be in that respect for them A day get out come, When Ill be out there, Just like the many that flip passed, Who desire they forget live, But this hop is a false expect, A hope which cannot stay. As a lot as I fear, there will be a day, Were I will hope, apply not to be out there, Yet as overabundance as I know, There is no point in hoping, Yet I still believe there is hope.
Some people prefer to have an appointment with a shell, instead than a surgery with the front, But once its time, Well consent to us just say, F be surface, it was a prudish life. Usually longer names are good things, however with this title you restrain yourself to not further one war, but limited the application of the poem to, well war. If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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