Held between the muddy red blood
and the blue veins showing through her skin
are the vibrant tones from a time of peace
mixed with a dull hue of war
where bullets found a way to pierce their resisting skin.
Her eyes live with death,
know nothing more than the bodies plummeting
consecutively into the oblivion of a life elsewhere.
She makes them to place on unmarked graves
to help pass their souls on.
The yellow color she works with,
shouts to a God she doesn't know if she can believe in anymore.
She prays useless prayers for each of them
hoping they find the somewhere else she ruminates about
unburdened by the devastation that surrounds her
as she makes one more
as she digs her own grave,
as she covers herself
as she breathes in the dense dirt
filling her lungs from the bottom up.
A single yellow flower can be seen from above
as he rescues her.
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