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  • Writer's pictureJulie Banks Lewis

they are us, we are them


It's curious to me that it is always, the people who pay, not in currency, no, they haven't enough money. Yet, they pay, with their bodies and minds and spirits, they pay. But, it's never enough, somehow, the debt is never fully paid. Even when, they die in a war, not of their making, again. Next time, maybe tomorrow, the Masters will ask for your sons and daughters. And, you will offer them, gladly, to defend your nation, you believe, you are loyal, you stand and salute the Masters' flag. You may be saved, but what has been lost? Who has been lost? Loved ones' names, etched on stone, memories now, for what? Listen to the Masters, they will tell you, everything, you need to know. Shhhh, hush now, don't ask any questions. No worries, just do, as you're told. Take your medicine, you won't feel, a thing. Go on home now, folks. Nothing to see here.

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