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It initially refused to provided one as it 'didn't comply with content policy.'
The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.
This weeks words are a pretty bleak lot:
past, climate, water, trudge, sludge, sodden, despite, despot, rise, demise, few, inner
"Nobis solis culpa est."
(The fault is ours alone.)
They trudge,
Trudge through sodden fields,
Trudge through sludge filled ditches,
Searching for water, food, shelter.
Anything really. They trudge because they must.
Children, crying, cling to their mothers.
The men carry the load, the inner one as well.
There is a permanent climate of fear,
There are predators, man and beast, in the shadows.
A rag-tag, rag covered, rag and bone army
Through bleak, grey ruins, they trudge on.
The demise of their past dreams, past lands,
The wretched, stinking skeletons of a despot’s ego.
Few challenged his rise, most praised it,
Despite the obvious warning signs
They cheered his rise, ignored his words.
Where are they now? Vanished. Silent.
Do they regret? Do they too trudge?
Probably.
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The title is a riff off "Non Nobis, Domine"
Where god is give credit for glorious victories.