Michael Cluff- A Poem

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The specters
flow from untainted soil
long or soon ago buried
with full respite and respect

but touching
now the air and aura
of modernized maniacal times
they brood into evil unending

never returning home
to the hallowed lawns
they rupture a harsh world
just a tad more, just a tad worse

that what the animate do
will do
will always cause
to perpetually occur.