this isn't war.

this is blood and fire and tears.

these are the corpses of family members rising up to meet you

and running, just running, no looking back, no time to cry just


these are governments falling and rising, hiding and dying,

civil wars and isolation,

armies failing with a flash and a bang, running scared and lost,

they aren't coming back for you, so


this is an entire nation disappearing in the mist,

one of ten dying at their comrades' hands,

a dam breaking and washing away so many lives,

a lone voice's swan song as a city burns around them


this is a world that has lost so much, sacrificing more to get something back, just something,

a priest with a gun in his hands,

an old royal, standing ground, surviving,

a general who never ran,

a voice over the airwaves that seeks to end the lies,

a victory, sweet and beautiful in a little place called


this is war.

a great march eastward to a city of heroes,

a corrupt government collapsing in a flash of light and death dealt by those who were not traitors,

a brave man fighting in the dark, where none shall pass,

and it's not quite over, never quite over, but you are allowed, for the first time in a long time to


A/N: okay, so this is just a drabble that i threw out with no regard for capitalization, grammar, or sense. cool? cool. and i'd love it if, you know, you took the time to leave a review, if you want.