Good evening or morning...whatever time of day it is where you are. I was feeling rather sentimental today so I leave you all with a poem I made in my spare time. Enjoy and bonjour!

War was not made for life. War is an atrocity not made for this world. It is an ends to a mean created by one species that ruins lives for all. It is a beast, never filled and always hungry. It is a child of man and it bites the hand that feeds.

Those who have never experienced it sing it's praises. They sing and speak of lone warriors who clear whole battlefields with swords.

Those who have lived through it never want to experience it again. It has taken all they ever had, all they ever hoped from the world and in turn it has given them bitterness.

War is a politicians ends to justify means, all those lives lost on the battlefields are names without faces. And as those in power sing about the fallen, the world revolves unaware of the horror it's citizens brought upon it. No one will care

War is a rapist, forcing itself upon you and leaving you cold and empty and broken.

War is not fought on the battlefield. It is fought in the homes of wives and widows crying over their dead. It is fought within the dying man who curses the world for his luck, it is fought within the soldier as he marches the long road ahead wondering who will attack him. War is fought within the sick tents in the minds of lucid soldiers as they cry out for mercy to a god who has turned a blind eye.

War,war never changes.   Next Chapter: Questions without answers Estimated time remaining: 22 Minutes