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The pen simply puts word to the page, the writer simply makes his mark as if he has something to say
Authors note:
My thoughts:
Like the sword in the wrong hand, the pen it makes its mark. It is like the wind has found new way to drive its point home. A number here a twisted meaning over there; justification, a few more will be sent, the weaver of the truth, helped set pen to sail, a hundred thousand soldiers, nay four score more will soon be upon a beach waiting just outside of heavens door. Planes will fill the sky and men will fall like birds. It will be done with pen and ink. Justifyings deaths call. Soldiers will stand and fight for what they are not sure. Many young men will have their taste of death. Many more will cry, innocence lost, cruel, cruel, world, pen or sword, it is death just the same. Those who sent them, will never accept blame. For if watch, if you order, if you just stand by, if you beleive, then bow your head and say a prayer when they die. It is the strangest thing, we all think that we are correct, and maybe we are. The pen and sword go hand in hand from shore to shining shore, ours or theirs.
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