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There is no right.

I marched on Pennsylvania

With like-minded warriors.

We shouted and carried our words

In sober steps, not treading the ground.

Patriotism and Liberty were by my side.

But simple items can chase them away

Like a bottle of whiskey and a rag.

One match and a small man's means is ruined

They came in dark hoods and covered faces

Or came in sheep's wool to look like us.

As the fire raged, I fell to asphalt,

Seeing the stone that hit me.

My fellow marchers ran past

As the attackers swarmed in

With sticks and sprays to sting.

The few of us left, unwanted and wounded,

Witnessed the destruction and domination

Of a legion of countrymen,

Who rather see the burning of all things good then be wrong.

The only salvation were the shielded men

Who I thought were to be my damnation.

There is no right for me anymore.

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