Stupid, the sorrow

The internal and external realizing, of

being afraid of loss

or losing grandeur

will gain their submission, if only for a the last minute of breath, collected.

 

Finished with the always waiting.

 

Stupid, the war.

Stupid, the death.

Stupid the sorrow.
Nothing compares to this life, not even the joy

(he destroyed it, one small body at a time.)

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