there is a war
that has made its home in my heart
coiled around rattling ribcages
shaking in its constant uproar

there is strife that runs in my blood,
and whistling bombs that fill
the recesses of my mind -
pure, white noise, searing and unkind

and in the hollows of my bones,
wanders something cruel, seething,
hidden in the cracks of my skin,
a restlessness no longer willing to be contained