Have you mastered the art of war? You, artist of destruction, poet of pain and devastation,
do you see these bodies pierced by our technological evolution? Skin polluted by metal stretched, torn, and eviscerated.
Mass graves of stillness;
Parents who hope this is just some nightmare. Life relegated to rigormortis. Bone thin, friendly corpses that touch such fierce coldness. Photos that beg in black and white for the shutters to stop. Instead, we shudder and start to forget all those body parts.
No ticking clock, just silent hearts;
While you acquiesce I sit in shadowy corners and obsess over our well-equipped darkness as each victim becomes a painting.
Some splatter art spreading all the shades of red that they know, while others are punctured pointillism.
But each body was once someone. Now they become a hollow chamber in a soldierβs gun as a wounded warrior scratches another notch in their already razor scarred memory.