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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Psychology >> ID #1396908 |
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A novice soldier,
armed with a death machine, struggles to understand why war is key to the American Dream. A confused child of seven pumps quarters into violent video games. Winning helps him forget a home where words ignite flames. A lonely old man of twenty, in a dirty, damp but safe haven searches for an decent vein to again, chase the dragon. Hope, that elusive feeling like an angel climbing a ladder. It takes strength and faith tough work for the weak. It takes a spark, a crack of sunlight from under a locked door; prayer, a moment of clear vision. Hope means plans, goals, a reason to exist, our legacy. It says we walked this world, shadows of our footprints remain.
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