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The Musings of a Madman, Surrounded by Madness Greater than His Own
I am a Warrior born, and am thusly accustomed to Death,
Having met Him on the field of battle of an occasion,
I have even shaken the Gentleman's hand at times.
I have heard the screams of the wounded and dying.
I have stared into the eyes of those Gentleman Death has claimed as his own.
I have watched as my Comrades fell around me.
And I have held, in my arms, men I called 'Brother'
as they bled their life into the earth.
Yet NOTHING has made me blench, like the horrible sight
of a child, suffering at the hands of a parent.
Nothing makes the eyes of my soul cry tears of my heart's blood,
like seeing children and women starving,
for lack of a stable economy.
Nothing makes my blood boil, like the sight of a woman,
who bears a bruise of pain, on her body and her soul,
a bruise given her by the man she loves.
And an arrow through my heart, could not make my soul cry out in pain,
such as it does at the sight, the terrible sight,
of the suffering the World inflicts upon itself.