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Death By A Million Cuts
For the first time since I started the conversation, he looks me dead in the eye. In his gaze are steel jackhammers, quiet vengeance, a hundred thousand orbital bombs frozen in still life.
‘Vain flame burns fast/and its lick is light/Modest flame lasts long/and burns to the bone.’
" We lost a war we chose not to fight." Without a doubt this is the best way to lose any war and the worst excuse to explain the beating afterwards.
“Where must we go...we who wander this wasteland, in search of our better selves?”