War

Those whiskey warm eyes were never the same – not after what he’d seen – not after what he’d done – you see – even the greatest intentions falter in the face of war – vanish under rivers of blood and piles of dead comrades – until you become what you are killing – just on a different side – the result of surviving yourself – of surviving a war – you never come out the other end the same – it makes killers of us all – there’s no way around that.

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