the race of mothers is truly dead,
preyed upon by vicious
means of unjust ends,
strength looked over outside limitations
of disaster society,
made self-assured by
self-justification
in the face of enormous oppression
to be fuddled with the warring world of
self-destructive regression.
sweet expanse across which are knead
further exploits in fatuity.
In all for sake it silent shrieks for
freedom, or the sense it's free.
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