I don’t believe its right for us to give up this fight, when our tears have no precedence upon the pavements of their lies: when their smiling faces fire pure hatred holes through our thighs. It doesn’t seem logical for us to shake hands with the enemy, when their rifles crash upon our shoulders. Logic hardly reasonable for what they have done upon the seas of red and the skies of blue. Standing upon piles of lost souls they fight against the darkness, and we watch on as soldiers about to die. Memories of us travel home to the loved ones who never had the chance to utter sweet goodbyes. It is here in this graveyard that a belly of danger lies. It is her that we begin and end the cry.
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