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Short pieces of poetry

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Inmate #43B:
all strings of bursts sounds like a laugh
her mother's laugh
her mother's laugh and death
her fur so black so white
so black and white and red
so red
her mother's laugh
her mother's death.

Kasha, Farmhand:
when she comes back from war
when she will lay on top of roof
when she will sleep
her shoulder gonna miss butt of the rifle
but she'll never miss anything.

Uncle Butters:
burned corpses are smells so tasty
he can't hide his smile
and killing are way more fun than cooking
he talks with dead like they are his customers:
hello good bye come back again
have a nice day or
have a nice death
that's better.

Drill Sergeant Volkov:
doves raises right wings to salute him
and he responds same way.
he was a pup long time ago
he was a pup who dreamed become a priest
who singing hymns to Sun and Tree.
and after he became a soldier.

The Matriark:
they lives inside her
dies inside her
they have no Sun or Tree not anymore
or maybe
she is their Sun
she is their Tree
she is a whole world
and they are just her pieces
who lives and dies and never rest in peace.