As I clunk through these trenches of murky war, 
I ask myself,
is it worth it? 
And for how long? 

Like puny chips of wood we crackle under the fire so simply and so plainly. 
I wonder why God has created such delicate creatures. 

Women wade in the tides of life sufferings. 
It's seems we never really belong to ourselves. 

We have good minds to let the water take us. 

Men high on trees, 
sitting on insecure branches. 
Their violent power, 
too heavy. 
Ready to crack at any spontaneous second. 

Why do murky clouds filter our skies so densely? 
Is this world even real? 
Are we yielding the lashes of our forefathers 
or God 
or both?

Is this the devil's doing? 
Does the universe so conspire 
to fashion us to be such termites under the wood of the world's walls. 
Eating away at its delicacies 
and finally ourselves. 

Will there ever be peace in these forests of man? 
Where blood tastes excellent 
and love is a mere melancholy remembrance of the past? 

Why do we eternally ache? 
Why do we eternally long? 

Linger on ideas on love, law, 
a hope for a good future in which our dreadful natures will not allow? 

What kind of stormy torture is this? 

Why do we love at all? 
Why are we all like magnets to each other? Like dogs in heat? 
We LOVE war more than our own selves. 
Rip the clothes off innocence and leave her to dehydrate in the dank, hot sun. 

Why are we slaves to our most cruelest lusts? 

Why are we so indecent in these forests of ours, 
where men don't protect us anymore? 
Why do we unleash our tongues with acids 
made from language so full of contempt for our brothers? 

So desperately I am asking these questions. 

Slowly,
the water fills my sisters' eyes and ears. 
We sink under the sounds of crackling branches.