Автор - gebber

war

Bullets above a head whistle.
Everywhere a roar.
And in a head only one:
It is a pain, fear, horror.

Soldiers crowds run
To kill to itself similar.
In what sense of it of all?
There is nothing. It is war.

War goes. War everywhere.
War has captured a planet.
Everyone will die in it.
And we are already dead.



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