Diplomacy

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In a world where hawks and armchair generals call for war on a daily basis, diplomats keep the peace - and the poetry.

We are the angry men
We are the confused men
Confronting each other
Our heads filled with anger.
When we shout at each other
Our voices are loud and meaningless
As screeching fighter jets
In a war zone

Anger has no shape, anger has no colour,
Anger is a misguided force, a violent emotion;

Those who have trespassed
With full knowledge, to the anger’s underworld
Can’t remember anything at all – are lost
Forever in the serpentine labyrinth
Of anger, those angry men
Those confused men.



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