Viva La Revoluci?n!
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Ezra Bon, Grade 12
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Poetry
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2008
Sound of rain, pattering
old beams bend and twist
damp to the soul, they creak.
Smelling of coal lingering
only warmth throughout the dark mist
finally, the beams begin to leak
Exasperated, becoming aghast,
taking up the grudge sinisterly.
The Bastille will be the last
tyrannies for the long haul,
as it cuts short, this will be
his last lie. We will be free.