I try to be what you have made me...At heart an intellectual whose hands no longer know how to till. But now knowing words don't feed the belly as much as they are food for the soul, Hunger drives me to discover myself...A farmer.
I watch and see your garb getting in the way of your opinion in discourse in a way my garb would never have interfered with war. The battlefield transformed, elegance superimposed on terrain, blood and pain no longer toughens, victory once measured in scalps now touted with medals. strength drained and the warriors brought down to knees. I fight daily to live.
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