I want to talk of war
   Of the horror
         Of every stain in the mirror
               Stains of ichor, blood and tar

I want to talk of pain
   Of the manner
         Its infusion makes me cower
              This time, next time, and then again

I want to talk of fear
   Of ice and gale
         Of hope and rapture - how they fail
                                As I do so, see how I sneer

As your eyes widen
As your ears shut
As you mouth opens

                                     To retort:
                                     All the beauty in the world
                                     Is all around to be taken
                                     Life too short!
                                     Wake up, and then
                                     witness marvels of all sorts!

I do not want
  to speak of your marvels
                  you are the one who buried them

And as you flaunt
         beauty as your anthem
                      You are still holding the shovel