The dark, brooding shadow of malevolance lies stagnant in the air,
Clogging the arteries of the world below, leaving only a stench of despair,
War itself is a disease that eats away at the fabric of life we hold dear,
There are no winners or losers, just futility that much is clear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So true are your sentiments, war is furtile and the majority are probably based on lies. Very good write.