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Array
(
[sid] => 49502
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => War
[time] => 2004-05-28 17:49:26
[hometext] => Written in the blood of those who died as a lesson to those who seek to kill.
[bodytext] => Explosions rent the stillness of dawn asunder, engulfing a thousand lives. A thousand screams rose with the flames skyward. Smoke-- like a shield trying to conceal the horrors it witnessed-- cloaked the burning carnage. A child's cry clove through the cacophany of death to pierce deep into the hearts of the survivors, who stood in mute testimony. They leaned upon their weapons to bear the gargantuan burden upon their shoulders, reliving the moments of their irrevocable sin, as they would for all eternity. They stood voiceless, guilt riddling their hearts and consciousness, knowing their hunger, lust, greed for power was won through a thousand lives, knowing that the child's shriek would again and again stab through their dreams like a thousand knives hacking with a dull thud deep into their flesh. As their knives had cut into those below, those dying namelessly, alone, their only comfort knowing they would soon fall into darkness, into the well of death, into an end of the agony. Gunfire, like a staccato drumbeat against which they must march down through the gates of Hell, ranged all around, making the limp bodies of the already-dead jump as if alive once more. This was war, this was the havoc caused by the whims of men. And these were the consequences extracted through human life. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 163 [topic] => 13 [informant] => CeruleanScreams [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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