Forgotten Youth

The expression is stern
As cross hairs float to the next spirit of God
A man of war
Finger clasped around the trigger
But in his mind
His chapped hands are smooth
Coiled around feminine face
Warm with life
But on steel
Burning stove tops
Metallic pools
Galvanizing the machine
Pushing the trigger
Like clock ticks
Each second
He watches men fall
Like his children at the swing’s apex
Youthful face is cloudy, swollen
And tears race like rain
But these orphans
Torn like warped boards
Enclosing the crate
Of Pandora’s box
They aren’t puffy eyed
Aren’t lifted to their feet
By overly concerned mothers
They lie motionless
In the reddening mud

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