Have you no recollection
Of the solemn silence that gripped the barrel
Have you not stared down
At the crimson melting into the streets
Have you not heard
The agony of his scream
Have you not felt
The black abyss of utter loss
Have you not made it so?
It is you, the damned.
You, who pulls the trigger and asks for art.
And you, who will be denied it so!
On war and art, and their contradictory natures.
Poetry For The Damned | Ecency
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