posted on Sep, 28 2015 @ 03:18 PM
I see above the trees, smoke, a shape that is shapeless, taking all away. From where it came I smell the stench, I taste the ashes and the blood
spilled. Standing here, you can here the screams of the child, screaming as they are torn from their mothers arms, the tears of the woman as she
enters her new home her child gone, forever, perhaps sent to an early grave. The men stand barely carrying themselves attempting to calm their wives
and children as the men completly dressed in grey and in their hands rifles, on their arms a symbol surrounded by red, red, the blood of all these. I
stand here and smell this, and taste this, listening to cries of the children as their fathers and mothers are lined before a ditch, a crack of
thunder, whipping through the air.