Jelly beans for lunch
and water
to wash down the decay
caused to my innards.
An unfinished crossword puzzle
carefully folded over
to hide the answers.
The bold letters spell
“W-A-R”
and so a few(thousand) bombs
are dropped
and brave warriors
are captured behind enemy lines.
And the words on the pages
of the newspaper
do little more
than the words on this page
to convey the horror
of a mother’s tears; a siblings anguish.
The prayers often seem in vain
but if there is a chance
one must seize it;
the sorrow will not subside
just yet as the anger mounts.
The headlines shout out
glorified and horrified response
but there is blood on my hands
that won’t wash clean
and I suspect I’m not alone.