the tears were spilled by many, for it was a stormy april day, the soilder weeped as the rain has come, their muddy uniforms were clear with sorrow, their onimous tears droped with thundering views of horrible lives, the dead had come to be buried while the survivors darkened souls shake in their roots, the drops are from thy faces not the rain, so as the dead are being lowered in the ground, the soilders bowed for the fallen in spontanoius fashion, so the throbbing vein of sadness finally popped as a great man
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