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Rated: 13+ · Other · Dark · #1973547
not so very nice poem against bloodshed
Masking the memory of the putrid stench of blood –
streaming over trembling fingers.
The cold numbing sensation in a heart-
already shattered by battlefields scarred and pockmarked to this day.
It must be the lust of the fight that disguises those corrupted brains that can only think of vengeance and greed.

I guess serious offences like how:
the prettiest roses grow on the other side of the wall or-
their soil is richer and the wives are prettier would warrant a skirmish at least.
My boat is bigger, your castle is new, your gold is better, he killed my sister, she killed her husband, he killed her son. It goes on and on…and on-

Those self-righteous and greedy thugs who stepped over the dead and dying, so their blood drunk sword could carve through flesh and bone.
Did they hear the anguished cries of their sons, daughters, mothers and elder fathers, of friends, neighbors and pets: forsaken for that brief clash of rusted metal on polished silver and gold.

Over and over again we repeat the warring cries of retribution and uprising, of ruling tyrants and future kings.
To go to the beach where villagers were slaughtered-
to sail over oceans filled with the echoing screams of-
iron buckling and splintering wood.

Is time really all we need to erase the promise of peace from every man, women and child? A single act against another is the only signal for us to take out our guns and knives. Weapons we swore merely 30 years ago to never touch again.
Just how many times have we promised vengeance and peace in one day?
Surely not enough for the billions who died for a wrong, right, faded or duty bound cause.

The gruesome shadows of our past stare up at us in sadistic humor, as they
watch their future selves hack and haw at that golden future that even the bad guys
dream of- the utopia that drives the hardworking to insanity.

If beasts walked on two legs and carried a sword instead of their claws, would they be closer to us? How are we different from the hyenas that eat their brother and sisters?
What about the dog who turns on his master?
Or the cat who will drown her own young if they are weak or deformed?
And the queen bee that poisons her child until her time of reign is over?

The earth weeps as her body is soaked with the blood of her children over-
squabbles the serine plants and endless sky can’t fathom.
Death drowns under the weight of our bodies and the demons of hell push and pull for a space of their own as the dead rise in number with each New Era.
What do we really want if not peace?
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