Disturbance

Do I disturb you with what I am?
Do my actions strike you with sick fascination?
An obsession you cannot explain,
A world of insanity where you are only a visitor.
Does my crazed mind terrify you?
Or perhaps you are not disturbed?
Not corrupted by the festering sickness,
The infinite contaminator of reason?
The phantoms of the fallen soldiers I’ve killed will shout the answer to you,
WAR!! War is the answer! We humans have solved all problems with war.
So why should we stop now?
We fight.
We kill.
We create machines of slaughter and mass murder,
We create grotesque monsters like me.
And then when it’s over we shun the destructive forces that we have created,
Forces that are drained of all emotion all joy.
Yet even as we call them monsters and devils,
We those who used our evil instruments to create and temper them as our perfect weapons,
We sit by and watch when it is us who are to blame for making them this way.
We turned them into monsters.
We turned them into devils.
And now we shun them,
For our mistakes they will pay the price.
So I ask again,
Do I disturb you with what I am?
Does it scare you?
What I have become?
Does your own creation disturb you?





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