Wet Drips
Water drops on my face, these hands of mind had just took the life from another NGO.
Two hands hugging her neck, a flesh corset that slims down her windpipe as she hits.
Hardly, to softly...
Mothers for peace, or what they call it.
Mothers who rest in peace, or what I made it.
Just a bunch of housewives bringing food to the impoverished and the poor, flood victims. But sadly for them their deeds are evil, James cried as he puts the body of the last member down into the ground. Heroism hurts, and sometimes the good deeds of others must be punished.
Humanity is at its brink of destruction, and to let them breed would be a tantamount to genocide for the future generations. War comes from strife, and the amount of resources to be shared does not miraculously come from the air (...yet). They will fight for land, they will fight for food, they will fight for shelter.
The current system of capitalism will divide then segregate the haves and the have nots, 'Hotfoot' as he now calls himself. Child killer, terrorist, and a hero of a different perspective.
Log in to comment