An incomplete war
What isn't a war?
A cicada's scream
reddening my ear.
Those with hairy ears and
those still wet behind their ears,
we're all out there at it.
vividly coloured battlegrounds
some, a child's sketch
some, a failed aesthetic.
Some fighting, with no desire to end it.
Some else, with no desire but to end it.
What is it that one truly yearns,
to win everything for himself, or
to win himself.
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