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I stand there, looking down at what I’ve done. Hoping I haven’t destroyed all for which I know, I thought; I only fought to protect? I’m doing that now, now’s all I have left.

Somedays, though, I need help; even I can’t see it.

That hope for a future when all you are shown is memories, news, killings and constant despair.

I stop it from falling.

Lest it do; only to wake what’s peacefully already existing there.

I close my eyes to weep; silently, back in the dark again.

Baclava covered and sure, more than most men; faced fear and it’s long gone so none in these eyes. Fucking manhood, projectionists, they speak disguised clear; lack of actions in large factions caused the grief that you hear…

“What love?”

Nothing, sorry… love,

again, love…

“It’s OK babe, come here.”

Perspectives of War

Just a reminder, the very word Character is synonymous with fakes acting out roles in a play.
Careful who defines your character, for you.
You should do that; then let no one ever question it, by demonstrating what you stand for through your actions.
Lest you become what you set out to initially change.
Perpetuating the cycle.
You can always come back to the Light.
Regardless of what any phony profit seeker tells you.
We save all souls here.
It is so, so it is.