This is it, boys

This is it.

The war is over, the bomb is dropped.

How does it feel to have the blood of thousands

On your hands?

A life for a life?

A death for a death?

Is that how it works?

How can you save

If you kill?

Who is truly right,

In this massacre of life?

Is this freedom?

They killed more.

You say.

The blood on their hands is greater.

Redder.

Thicker.

But it doesn't diminish

Your own

Red

Sticky

Hands.

You killed the innocent, you realize.

Innocence.

They had family.

Family who never got to say goodbye.

Little children.

Tiny hands.

Tiny voices that cry.

In the night.

For their Mama

Who will never come home

Because of you.