2 of 13

In the back room of my memories

Where only the darkest thoughts dwell,

I recall a time so long ago

When fires burned and crosses were raised.

When angry eyes and angry voices

Muffled by white cotton sheets,

Called out in the dead of night

And brought with them a living hell.

And when those dreams return

I am jerked from slumber

And my heart beats like a drum

As I watch the fires burn.

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