The Smell of War

You are not raven or butterfly

Shrinking at the smell of war

Not craven or blind

Nor slave to hate

There is history in you

Pain is not your glory

Suffering is not your lesson

They belong to the immoral one

Rise from hidden places

Slay the evil in the streets

He is lost before beginning

But cannot see the truth of it

It stinks, corrupted

Like rancid flesh

A carrions feast

The death of angels

He is the lost one

Killing his own babies

Do not back down or turn away

He will soon be devoured

There is no such thing as a little freedom. Either you are all free, or you are not free – Walter Cronkite

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