War


I am not Death
I am whole nations
The bodies that fill the carts
Fear behind glass panes
I am lime burning innocent flesh
The guttering of a man drowning in his own blood
And the cud from his dead lips
I am a rolling fog of green
The bright flash of flares
Families are crushed beneath my grip
I fill Perdition and Purgatory
I work through leaders and parents
Perhaps one day I shall work through you
I am not Death
Death asks me "why?"
I was birthed by man
I am the brother of despair
And of massacre and agony
I am the words on a dying man's lips
I am the cry of horses shot from beneath men
The rot of hard worked feet
I am not Death
But Death's son
And my name.
Is War

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