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talking to myself

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The weariness of it all

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Mankind is weary of war.

The weak, and lowly,

Those who have no one to protect them,

Women, Children, the old, without a shield,

Waiting for ‘it’ to happen,

A bullet,

A sudden explosion,

Ripping apart lives and bodies without mercy,

Young men and women in their prime,

Full of life and vigor,

Strong and brave,

Those who take up arms,

Each thinking their cause is right,

Committing acts unheard in times of peace,

Tortured, and torturer, dancing in perfect sync,

They face each other on the field until only one remains

These are the sacrificial offerings offered to the god of war,

By a race giving it sustenance,

Caught in the web

Feeding the ‘thing’ that sets waiting in the center,

To catch it victims in its intricate weave,

No mercy shown,

Only empty husk remain

Of what was once alive and vibrant

The wheel continues to turn.

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