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War

Why believe?
Why believe in people, in friendship, in love, in life?
Humans, ah! The human heart, so fickle in its nature.
So capable of the highest forms of love, yet the most hurtful forms of hate.
So much good, yet so much evil.

So lonely are we, with hardened hearts and spirits
That we continue the pain
Rehash the hatred
The bitterness
And anger

Into pools of crimson flowing forth from our bodies
Running black with death
Dead hearts
Dead spirits
Impassioned only by strong antipathies
Charred from acrid debates long past
Flaked off into heaps of black snowflakes from seeming
eons of bruised pride

And you, just you.
You betray me.