10/20/23

Figurative, I wish it was all a dream.
Trapped, as he lies awake, I see the reflection
of drones from his eyes.
Shoot, shoot, shoot, like ducks from the skies.
But ducks you let live he said,
"Those you do not, ever".

Tiny small fans, usually four on each.
1, 2, 3, 4.
They never stopped coming.
5, 6, 7, 8.
Particles of metal fall to the grown.
Flying like birds, but explosives as hearts.

His eyes showed horror, but words told a different story.
Deep down, it is eating him alive.
Tearing him down, the living person slowly fading.
I still grasped at the spirits of my dead friends,
I try to hold onto his living soul.
As even the living are starting to whither.

I only saw drones from his eyes,
Just shoot, shoot, shoot them all down.
"They wiped away my home town,
killed all the children, men, and women.
they took the last of humanity my father had."
Figurative, I wish it was all a dream.

I wish the war would end