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People come from all around Just to get a glimpse They look for certain markers Some people come every day of their lives to see Someone who was once with them Some brave the horrid weather The ground being beaten by rain Or cracked and dried in the sun Like the bloodied lips of a soul Lost in the desert Mourners cloaked in the black of killed dreams Weeping over the soul less bodies' Final resting places The souls, good or bad, look down upon them As they float away to a better place. |