This is my great citadel, made of the bones of millions of men and women died and gone hewed and killed...
Skulls are placed with open and empty eye holes allowing the gentle breeze to bring in the ashes of dead
The hip-joints suffered with labor pains displayed as souvenirs reminding that no space left for a single rise against my race
Unbent back bones are kept in a line in a secret chamber as an alarm, striking a chord… day and night, for my wretched cohorts, who forget the things overnight that…… “Them”, those who bore those bones, rose against us!
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3/19/2010 2:57:34 PM. #.34# You Are Here:
Citadel of Bones by Koombiya From Sri Lanka