The Battles of Life

I feel like we are at war.
War, a bloody, awful thing.
Arrows and bullets are shot,
And words pierce the skin,
Like swords and daggers;
Pushing through the soft skin,
Till its punctured,
And then it lets more blood out,
As it’s pulled from the skin.
It’s a fine piercing pain,
But again and again,
The words hit until they do damage;
Their motive is to kill.
It’s their life and they never stop.
White flag waves from our side;
Although we didn’t start this massacre,
We do try to end it.
But they fight on endlessly and mercilessly,
As they continue to kill.

02.11.09