the poetry of war
is what lies
on the floor
of a butcher shop
a gruesome red scene
torn lives in rat-sized pieces
the bloody shrapnel of humanity
for the dogs to fight over
similes of brutal death
replace sunrises with darkness
blinds and numbs anyone
reaching for a new day
so am I a fool
to write kind poetry
get you to laugh
or imagine beauty?
with bombs and bullets
still flying do you still
want someone to ask
the sun to break through