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Be Strong
I cannot count the tears
Nor can I count the hate
Though I can only count
The men that hate didi take.
I cannot curse the World
Nor can I curse the few
Though I wish I could only curse
The Men that hate did knew.
I wish there was no pain,
I wish there was no grave,
But I know that will never be,
For like the rain, it comes everyday.
We are Given life,
And we are given death,
We are then given the choice,
To make it the worst or best.
I cannot count the bullets
Nor can I count the hate,
Though I can only count,
The Graves, where dreams are laid.
Randy L. McClave
poem
by
Randy McClave
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