War Torn
Shadows veil the ground like giant birds
whisking through the sky while the ground explodes.
Deadly, bio-hazard hued feces drop from their tails
as they battle other birds in this vicious highway.
Fallen foes counted as points in this fatal game-
children fall
complacent to the grim environment.
If they return: do they cope with the scars?
Do they see the scars their scars leave?
Holes left by feces, are used as shelter
by those lost in the final sleep
war-torn soil does not make pleasant bed sheets.
This poem is about:
Our world