At the end of my sword
Steps, and lurches toward
The plunge of the blade
Piercing skin

Facing the barrel
Crouching, sights narrowed
The sting of lead
Molten hot projectile

Baring the tide
Waves, focused on the mind
The nausea of lobotimization
Frying the insides

Looking to the sky
Machines, with precision strike
The destruction you know
Chucks of shrapnel

The terrors of war
Changing with time
Only grow more vicious,
And become more refined

Our greatest art
Will be the blank canvas
Nuclear annihilation
Has left behind