every picture on the wall meant something to the person who hung them
they were all crooked, with a layer of dust, and frayed string holding them tentatively from rusting nails
faces of long gone relatives and houses now mounds of ash
pets and farms and celebrations from the past
and in the midst of these cherished but distance memories
a painting of stark contrast
colors that swirled
and made emotions surface
an angry painting in a sea of nostalgia
why had this modern feeling been placed among the pictures on the wall?
it was like the warning signs of a coup d'etat
a takeover of visual proportions
a bleeding gash in the skin of the hall
what war was about to be waged
between nostalgia and terror
why does moving on have to be so damn bloody
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