There is an ache that surrounds my heart Painstakingly, gradually, gravitating towards the shallow end of it. It reminds me of a sun that is torn. Torn to shine on the same world. All with different light. One shines on a flowerbed ready to bloom Another takes the skin off of the ones already withering. This world, the air all around, every other step, they smell like dead mothers and lost fathers. When there is still time to play, They look at the sky, counting stars in daylight. oblivious of being constantly evaporated, they drink from what makes them thirsty They play; covered in soot, of what once used to be their home. They stand, half crouched revealing the gray and black that defines them And when the sudden blight unfolds itself on those tiny vessels of life and misery This world watches all the same, From thier glass castles, Warm beds Flowery blankets Full plates the sun turns itself Into night to hide them the earth heaves its innards outside to consume thiers Wars --I concluded-- aren't fought for what's living but for those who will perish fighting death.