WE ARE NOT BLIND TO TODAY’S WARS!
Do you not see the pyres? Lives charred, homes ash—yet still you kneel, peasant, while rulers sip wine in vaults, their heirs schooled in serenity as yours bleed in ditches.
These wars—“theatre of fools”—are games where rulers bet your bones for gold, and you, “you wretched fool”, die believing it “glory.” Your taxes forge the daggers; your silence feeds the pyres.
The media? A brothel of lies, selling you poison as patriotism. The sage whispers: They are not leaders—they are butchers with balance sheets. Rise, or become the meat of their ledgers.
