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The Conflict
I walk through a field of hate and pain
All I see, all I know, is love and war
While the clouds of venom and lead rain
I try to comprehend what either side has in store
The grounds and grass are made of language
What conflict is without
it's own verbal anguish?
The green is shriveled, withered away
For war destroys and war removes life
My God is it interesting in every way
What other force in the world has such strife?
Even though I walk this field
I carry a sin I can’t ever disown
It's the sin we all own
It is the sin of seeking blood and bone
I liked teasing and shouting,
It gave me a sense of energy
All of these small bouts of fighting
You've had a smile on your face
When you fought with an enemy
You thought you were putting
In their place
Whether it be drama at school,
Or a grand bloody war
Through it I carry a smile on my face
With human contempt there is no trace
In this place there is no empathy
Only contempt for your enemy
Who needs sympathy?
No matter who you are or could ever be
You like the conflict, just like me.
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A short poem on conflict, ideology, and humanity.
While I am primarily a fiction writer, I'd even say I live and breathe fiction, I am currently working on stories to submit online, because let's face it, you can't put all of your eggs in one basket.