The lover waits to go home; this putrid war takes its toll. Each and every one of his buddies dies in the vomit filled bunker hole. All he looks is to save his skin so he may go back to his pregnant wife. Will his little thought suffice? Will his prayer (though he is an atheist) now come alive?
Is the time to delay the inevitable ripening…..
The war has been raging on. forever on and on. The peace talks remain a talk and blood and water mix once so very often and no one knows what they are drinking in the first place. Water to sustain or the blood of their brothers. The nights are snowed in and the days it rains and hails. No one knows when the next shell will fall. No one knows what they are fighting for.
Some call it the sacred freedom; some not so bright eyed – see the rubble mountain and know their life is worth than this piece of land they rest their weary heads upon. While those in power make powerful speeches and lure the innocent to defend this mountain like so many others. Kargil remains the graveyard of the many easily forgot for a cause easier forgot.
Today the many pray and mourn – the loss which my brothers and I have had to endure – for a maddening obsession of the patriot fuckers. Those who had nothing but to divide land which did not belong to them. They split it and bled it with the blood of my brothers and I. Over and over till we were sucked of anything which remained.
I remained a lover – waiting to go home to my beloved. I thought that when this cursed war for so called freedom would be over; then I could go back and live a simple life; and look at what I have done (The blood on my hands). Cursed and brutally murdered people time over. People like myself; and who I did not bear any animosity towards. What made me do this. What can I say but folks like you!
Folks like you; who wish to sit in their mansions watching the daily news somewhere far away – and generate drama to be patriotic once again. To make speeches and attack and retreat to the march and beat. Killing is your business; and yes business is doing fucking good. You do not want to live and love. You who does not have anyone who will mourn over your death. And instead of living with that; you would rather people like me go to the ends of earth and die and slump – my grave should take your body. You should be on this icy mountain fighting for your morbid greed. You must be the one who dies for your petty land and religion. I am a lover; going back to my beloved. Require nothing of your fucking insanity. Please spare me and instead take my place and die for me!
I have seen the fear in the dying man’s eyes. And as now pneumonia plagues and fills my lungs. I feel the pain behind my temple as well. Unable to live with being apart from my beloved anymore. I die without hope crying and drowning in the pool of my own tears.
I have one last wish, that you stop celebrating my sacrifice. I did not want to die; alone away from the gentle touch of my lover. I would rather not be embroiled in this fucking illness of everyone of yours’ brain. I wish my peace and I wish you peace too. Kill all you fucking patriots and have a good laugh soon.
Love and Peace
Kill the patriots. Burn the flag. Shroud in black.
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