but of course
we're too
late
for that song
the tanks are
already rolling
rationales &
cognacs of oligarchs
& their
gold
& their
yachts
floating in blood
mariupol
bleeds
like what
you'd expect
from a
child's hand
or a mass
grave of trenches
carved out by
a putin death smirk
fear alone
by another diseased mind
the road to
babi yar
again
--- e b bortz
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