Why they hate you, it's foreign to me,
I don't hate you, even in the worst calamities...
Polka dots of green
cascading down a celestial sphere...
We are soldiers
And we march on...
His Blood Stained The Ground
Her Tears Hit His Tags...
Every Morning We Wake In Our Warm Beds
While He Wakes Up In The Dust And Heat...
The tones of our skin
The colors of our eyes...
Michael Came Home
By Mark Spencer...
I'm sorry this must be in writing rather than in...
I feared that by facing you with my decision...
I see the hills and empty fields
Encased in dusty hue...
The bombs fly
a rain of fire...
When your sad
Hurt or lonely...
In silence and confinement
resides his soul's merriment...