Quantity is a form of quality,
Say the generals standing on the side.
They say what we know, what TV shows:
Russian men by the hundreds of thousands
Pour their bodies into eastern Ukraine,
Where men are meat and the grinder grinds them.
No honor, no name, no glory, but shame:
All taking and breaking in Russia’s name
Yet hundreds of thousands do as they’re told,
Blooded to rape, torture, murder at will.
Sent to break neighbors’ souls, they freely go
Or run across borders. We know they know.
Psychopathic souls crave innocents’ blood.
From the side we watch, claiming to be good.
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