[ WP ] A story with no point . Just the ramblings of someone committed to a mental institution .

They stare. I see them. Am I staring or are they? It does n't matter. This war is madness. Back and forth, forth and ebb until one side wins, all along destroying both sides internally. They do n't get it; never will. Too busy thinking `` why are n't they staring at me!?'' I just do n't get it. We have all we need to end it yet no one will speak. Am I speaking or them? We speak and speak and speak but will never be heard. It's inside baseball, cryptic communities, groupthink translations in war-torn identities. War is hell and bullets over utilized; still we refuse to send the guilty to the guillotine. Fire's the great cleansing parasite, necessary to rid our morals of stains. But you're young and care free—too unburdened to care. It'll catch up to you, though. Just look at me: sitting here staring randomly, conversing with personas I alone construct. But do n't you see them staring back at me?
