Virginia Carraway Stark

Down they pushed him
His head under the soil
And under the wheels
Of the combine harvester
Blood for the crops
His young face
Once full of smiles
and his young body
With his knocked knees
And a scrape that
He tried not to cry over
But he still
Cried a little
Even though he made his voice brave
A sacrifice was demanded
To make the corn grow tall
His body the offering
Bloody blades
Turn the soil

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