Murderers and Redemptionists
We were of an innocent bud,
Then we became silent murderers
of ourselves,
Flown away on butterfly wings,
Everytime a conspiracy took destruction,
But, then
We became silent redemptionists
Pleading forgiveness,
As we glued the pieces back together,
Or left them shattered and scattered
To build something new,
Out of hope, faith and beauty.
© Soshinie Singh
Author of the Phoenix Letters and the Mist Calling
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