the perfect war battles on each day with weapons so sweet and blood so red. rivers and rivers of frosty red blood, still frothy from the sign of victory. a finger down my throat or a knife on my skin- what's the difference? it's all the same to me in the perfect war that engulfs this body. starve for a day to feel the pain that lies so peacefully on my tongue. kill the voices in my head before i kill myself. rip my soul out of my flesh and throw it on the dusty ground. stomp out the hatred� stomp out the fear� stomp out the suicide thoughts� stomp out the dreams. and don't stop until the perfect war is over. because perfection lies even in the end.