zeelhouette

I feel the irony of life's nurturing molestation with painfully sweet romantic rejection The Weapon driven home comfortably In the womb of a moment's passing silence under big, green umbrellas Outside a little cafe as the rain softly patterns On the shiny brand new tanks and thousands of armor-piercing rounds, stacked high, Right next door to dollies with blonde hair and blue eyes While puppies yelp and wag their tails, nostrils flaring,  At the smell of the sulfur and tears mixing with soot from the smoke stacks As our children pray for the bombs to cease their taunting cackle So they might curl beneath their blankets hoping perhaps this year They saw on television right after the anti-violence commercial