Cherry
Blossoms
They fell like this when men screamed and died
Blood rose as they fell, it became hard to tell
The difference between beauty and horror, heaven and hell
Things at the moment no one believed
Only whispers that claim to have been there
However they are what was found when the snow thawed
Even in the spring that stirs these memories
Can it look any different or has it become the same since
But a cherry tree is just a tree not a man we try to tell ourselves
Though he wonders what sort of man am I
What sort of man will I become?
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