Can you sift through the rubble of broken dreams, through gaping wounds and the collateral damage of truth? Can you walk a mile in muddy boots that have trampled fields of wheat, past landmines and ordnance and into the mouth of aggression?
I have been through this warzone. I have dawned my scars and painted my face in blood, one more scalp, one more trophy – one more badge of honor for the landlords of hell. That's right, my tombstone is blank, a vacant spirit clawing from the grave.
Upon a time I witnessed birth, six pounds of screaming infant, a miracle. I now unleash this Howitzer upon a sleeping village, mechanical dogs of war, the wrath of God in camouflage. I am the battered remnant of man, a fox with rabid eyes and PTSD.
Step aside boy, for the tanks are coming, another airstrike from the rear. What politician sits in his golden chamber, a pampered puppet with his dickless heart and paper creed, a silver coin shoved neatly up his ass.
When God decides to settle the score, when he throws his dice and rips men from this dented can, I will beg him for answers. I will demand to know why he made me cry, why I murdered children and lied to my wife. You cheated us! You made us believe and left us here to kill rats. I cannot do this anymore. I have no more hearts for war...