We will live in the death smog for awhile,
breathing the dust of the dead,
the 3 thousand or so who turn to smoke,
The dead are in us now, locked in our chests,
staining our lungs,
polluting our bloodstreams,
And though we cover our faces with flags
and other pieces of cloth to filter the air,
the spirits of the dead aren't fooled
by our masks.
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