They stand in unison. All their dreams disabled because warlords will break loose, at any moment. Hear the sound of silence; noise is the sound of mankind, and silence is peace. And the helicopter, co-opted to safeguard the impossible. I played the game thinking of you. It was a squad and I was the star, super commando leading them towards the eradication of races not ours. They were ugly, and we were nice. We were nice, in absolutes.
Green ants scratched off by heavy metal. That was God’s POV had he been there. And I was there, just not in mind. My mind was having trouble processing feeling fine. You created me for decades.
They were clones and they were killing every individual. The irony is it was me in charge. But then again, it was you in charge of me, always. So, in reality, you made me kill myself. Come on.
