Death to Propaganda

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Sculptor postures into a grovel,
Dust of a ravaged icon
Sifts through their fingers.

Shades of grey
Transfer to wrinkles. Recognizable
Physiognomy is
Streaked with ashen death.

Clouds of soot
Billow with each whimper,
Procuring suffering.

“It’s dead,” he claims,
“They’ve killed my child.”

State sponsored artists
Expire
With their state.

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