The stony line of battle.
Unmoving.
Silently declaring war,
against a cause unknown...
Against the voices in one man’s head.
Slowly the troops move forward,
Sniping,
and chipping away at the adopted enemy,
unfair though it is.
The still lips concealing
the splintering of a mind
that does not wish to be cruel,
but to be gently caressed,
And upturned.
For a kind voice to say:
Go home.
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