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Droplets of sweat
Oozing from his forehead,
Eyes searching through the smoke,
As the bullet found its mark,
As the enemy staggered and fell;
Running forward, holding him close,
Tears rolling down his taut face,
He looked a picture of sorrow,
Foretelling a bleak tomorrow.
Humility had killed pride;
But the scars on the heart remained;
For an entire community had suffered,
Their hospitality betrayed;
A humble race that bowed its head,
Was lost in the history of bloodshed.
In a world losing values select.