War Zone Living

a poetic description of the world in which I live

I'm tired of this war zone living.

Mama was a bombshell,

Aunty was just rollin' stoned.

Pull the shrapnel from my heart.

We're all bleeding out,

dying one second at a time.

I'm caught in the barbed-wire,

dancing the spandau ballet

of family life.

I wash the dirt from my face,

and the fog of war from my eyes.

Some nights I get

so drunk that, for just awhile,

I can forget where I am.

I'm not getting in the middle.

They're all dead set,

to dive on eachother's 

pipe-bomb hearts.

Be blown away.

Bloody, muffled pop and crunch.

Shattered bone and heart.

A crimson corn-husk doll

all that's left.

F**k their emotional martyrdom.

I lock myself down

into the foxhole in my head.

There is no escape.

Mail me home 

in a body bag

with a folded flag.

Oh yeah, too late...

By: Torrin A. Greathouse

Reviews

[T. Val]

I think this is what most people might feel when going to war. You sign your life away and left for dead with no escape. You do anything to ease the pain and feeling of being alone. Great work.