I tire of the human-baiting necks strung up from trees. I sick of razor whispers, viper tongues stealing more than thieves. The cries for blood disturb my sleep from the growling dogs of war The tramps and shouts of warriors that beckon at my door.
The land mine text and trip wire phrase lies prone to every passing ear though all it sets a-blaze. A war of words, a battle of mouths has yet to draw out blood but voices have a deadlier blast than a shotgun ever could