PRISONER OF TIME 2 © 2008

Men invented weapons to kill their kin,

Tools of hatred, forged in the fire of discord,

They turned life into a battlefield,

Where spilled blood is the sad victory.

They invented language, with promises of unity,

But soon distorted it to invoke lies,

Used words as sharp blades,

Reveling in the power that destruction inspires.

And so, within humanity,

The seed of distrust took root,

Love for one’s neighbor was forgotten,

And the cycle of violence continued.

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