Member-only story
The Brutality of Giving Life
—A prose poem
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Begging for your life as if at the mercy of a gun. Cold and calculated metal, with no heart, no soul, and no respect for living things.
No remorse when the blow sounds; down on both knees, you hold out your empty hands for something that cannot be found—not amongst animals, much less hollow men and the clank of metal, steel, and all things ammunition.
Full rounds unleashed, emanating the emptiness of one’s words when heard by evaporating ears strapped to a body held together by trauma, brutality, and the hate for one’s brother.
Hands flung up to the heavens, a sky filled with mercury, no mercy in sight, raining blood on dying leaves, a massacre of the insolvent, inconsolable warfare, crying bullets of rage and revenge onto a nation of bloodthirsty demons, hell-bent on one thing, that of anarchy, of bloodshed and death—all in the name of peace.
Where the innocent are as scarce as the proclaimed peace, children, woman, no one is spared, all are guilty, all are welcome, no exceptions made only in favour of those who wear the mark of the snake printed on his eyes.
Mercenaries in their motherland, orphans bound like slaves, let loose in another’s gaze, a sight that foretells…
