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there are young girls sweep-sweep-sweeping the rubble and broken glass o war:
her father carried her letters with him, in the car en route to work:
he was drug out, the car stolen for satchel and him shot in the head,
and now she knows her letters will cost her the rest of her family,
for the letters certainly found, say who she is
and she is now never safe for they know who she is
and she searches each car-bomb photo to see if it was the car carrying her letters
and her father;

say something nice ... or not

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