I'll Never

It’s more like war than anything else. The generals lead their armies of violent words in the shape of soldiers. Each with gnashing teeth, red eyes and state of the art weaponry. They themselves are harmless, of course. It’s when there's a lot of words, all plunged into battle because of their obedience and malice. The generals tell them where to go, what to do, how to do it. They find the weak points in the opposition's ranks and drill the argument until it shatters in a dismembering array of limbs.  

Civilian casualty rates naturally sky rocket, it’s almost inevitable in such conflict. Hearing the battle wounds as much as being in it. A smart general will use them. Stupid ones forget they’re there. That each shell sent flying down to Earth strikes the mothers and children as well as the footmen. Other generals forget which people belong to them and kill their own, but that’s someone else's problem really. It might have been his job at the start to protect his country's people, but now it is simply to eradicate.

It’s harder when it’s a civil war, or when the civilians don’t have set parties to choose between. Then it doesn’t matter who you kill, every syllable attacks something personal. The city that you’ve now reduced to rubble had your childhood house in its streets. 

The one where you spoke your first words. 

You had been congratulated then, but now you won’t even open your mouth for fear of the sound it makes. After a while you forget what you’re fighting for, why you picked this side, why you listen to the general. They are just words after all, they only have meaning because you give it to them. 

I doubt the general knows what he’s doing anymore. He’s been fighting for so long that he wouldn’t know how to live outside the war. How not to twist every breath into propaganda. How to go home and let his people rest. How to be kind.

When did they start hating each other so much that they forgot to love us?