Murder she wrote.

while at home during the holidays, i was saddened by the events in the north. on one of such days, i wrote this down.

How do you sleep at night when there’s blood on your hands.

how can you pray when there’s death on your conscience.

How can you hug your kids goodnight when you’ve made others fatherless.

how can you kiss your wife goodbye while others have been widowed by your hands.

you say you’re innocent, yet voices are crying out against you.

you say your conscience is clear because you didn’t pull the trigger, yet your orders left them dead.

stained

oh, but that’s not true, we’ve cleaned everything up hosed it down,patched it up,cleaned it and buried it (is what you said).

it’s like it never happened, there’s no physical evidence around to prove it’s existence, there’s no mark to show it was there.

all that’s remaining is our memories. it lingers in our minds.

the families affected now have empty rooms,beds,empty parking lots,empty seats at the dinner table…… and no family cause you’ve taken them away.

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