In General, Prose

Before you draw that sword, spill your blood.

Before you beat that drum of war in the market square, lay that sharp knife on your throat and feel your pulse.

Before you ink genocidal messages on the papers of the minds of the naive.

Before you whisper your newly composed lyrics of war in their ears, know that violence is a wildfire that can consume even you and ‘yours’.

And you, before you unlock the gate of your heart, to allow that man to lead you on in that course, ask where he puts his wife and kids.
Irreparable stupidity is when you lose your life and you cannot account for the same life.


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