I Really Was the War

After tea, and our proceedings a
paradox, fortunes would
be more complicated.  “Then the home
office might have been a little

drawer, and not a little more than
sufficient,” I said,
rather surprised. I protested,
“We are they?”  until

I was really the war.
Our eyes met mine were sad, but had
heard, for the horrible creatures we
feared.  That is another matter to bed.

Gnoetry0.2. Texts analysed:
General Smedley Butler, War Is A Racket
H. G. Wells, The Time Machine
Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Some post regeneration edits–quotation marks added and punctuation changed.

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