Cruel minds of war write Dear John letters to the very air we breathe. Cruel minds of war draw bullseyes on the psyches of the innocent. Cruel minds of war take drag after drag off death’s cigarette. They sing glory to Bomb in the highest. Got wrecking ball bloodlines, sweat stilettos, are cold and empty as a tombstone’s womb. Cruel minds of war finger their rosaries of rage, see the world through hate-colored glasses. They go BOOM when you try to reason with them. Won’t be happy until they’ve covered every man, woman, and child with ghost tattoos, and have inked the world into nonexistence.