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I was round a Tripfire
Playing my guitar
Singing and yelling
Loudly, of corse
I had eaten that sweet Lucy
A couple hours before
A lady walked up
A deadhead
Dreads and all
She started dancing
After the song
She dropped a bomb on me
"That was beautiful, my name is Paige"
Raining from above, the fires of Hell ravage the land
All of life is burned up upon the face of the earth
It does not distinguish one life from another
Father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter, adult or child
All are consumed by the destruction
A lone soldier watches in the distance
His job of destruction is done, but, was it worth it?
He fights to protect peace, yet denies peace to his enemies
What is going through their heads?
Are they not also fighting for what they believe to be right?
Tears stream down his face as he comes to a realization:
In order to change anything, one must be willing to become that which they fear most.
One must become a monster.
Death becomes us all, but are we willing to become Death?
Which of us has the right to become Death?
Which of us can claim that responsibility?
Under which circumstances must the law be rewritten?
Under which circumstances must the law be ignored and broken?
Who in this world can bring about the change?
Who can make that decision?
Only you.
For King and country; for glory; for God; for love; for land; for the right to live; for the right to live how we want
All of these, and more, are reasons to fight
It's easy to have a reason to fight
What about a reason to withhold your actions?
What reason does one use to say no to fighting?
It's easy to rationalize why we do acts of violence, but nobody rationalizes passivity
What about when we do something silly and pointless?
I do such things to make people smile
If I cannot make myself smile, why not do so for others?
Let people ridicule me all day, if I bring about at least one smile, then the day has not been wasted
Love is my reason
Love for all of mankind, even those whom would stand against me
Love is all the reason I need to forsake myself for others
A portent of the intricate was looming in the sky
With its fiery red eyes fixed upon its prey
Already down the cliff, I wondered if there was a way back
There were those evil birds stooping towards me
Thought they'd **** me at once
But they chose to torment till the very existence of the soul is crippled and crumbled
The death still precludes for the free fall had some rising hopes
convinced of the invisible
Thinking of a mountain
with an eagle's instincts
the premonition of a demented person
waiting with certainty
the most primitive revolution is tacked together:
the most diminutive spark of an atom:
Thought.
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