Frederik Kloiber

Warmonger

 

Horror is dreamlike, so abundant is its desire.
The sweet angel of peace? Has he not been
strolling on a river of blood for a long time now?
The blood of the innocent is gushing. Is it not
literally spraying on a white shirt? Then the
world saw the truth, and a poor spirit crashes
about on all fours. A foolish ass of history? All are
to blame, are guilty, so speaks the angel of peace,
the warmonger, the devil's good servant. – Fools
in the eternally same story! Small and slight, so
small that it makes children cry. So small that every
woman and mother are lying on the ground, dead
and cold? Tell me poor little man, tell me, how does
the blood feel on your claws!? Thief of life and child?
Are you happy? Do dead children excite you? Do you
lick your lips when you see an image of burning ruins
and dead people? The devil has greeted you long ago,
you poor little man.... Our mother's name is peace, our
mother is in great distress! We are called to serve our
mother!

 

Toutes les droites appartiennent à son auteur Il a été publié sur e-Stories.org par la demande de Frederik Kloiber.
Publié sur e-Stories.org sur 14.06.2022.

 

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