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RottenSweat in my face and blood in my hands,
I cannot stop this rumbling agony;
For I find myself between two lands;
Now fighting for both turns this into irony.
I can never expect to be forgiving;
Forsaken in these lands I may be wiped.
This, my brother, is now bleeding
While I may as well be sniped.
My enemy lies stabbed before me,
And I find myself useless as an ant,
At least saving him may relieve me,
Yet against my land I’m not allowed to rant.
This man I’m profusely trying to save
I just met over the web in the past,
And here I tried to turn him into a slave,
But as my friend I saw him at last.
His sacrifice will never be forgotten,
Even if in his homeland he’s branded “rotten.”
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