If I told you that conflict was coming
Would you tell me “Don’t worry my friend.”
Or will you hear war hammers drumming
Their martial salute at the end?
You can’t fill a cartridge with rumors
Nor grant a soul solace with lead
But if you ignore nascent tumors
The patient could suffer instead.
The weapon of choice is confusion
More harmful than anything steel
For if we believe the illusion
We won’t see the prison is real.
Are You Reading Me?
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