Proving False

News runs faster 
than the sun. It is 
dark already. 

You have started arresting 
the shadows. I was still 
talking to a rose. 

Let's go somewhere. Where 
no war cries are heard 
for a day. 

How many, will you― 
count the dead? Each mortal 
wants to go home. 

The postcards, don't 
arrive from the front 
anymore. 

Will you take my message 
by the severed head.