Poem 37:Modern Warfare
Modern Warfare
Time ago a warrior would ght others.
But now a warrior ghts themselves.
The sword was aimed towards the enemy.
Now the enemy is me.
The injuries I bandage are not from another.
They are purposeful; They are from my own blade.
How does one go from ghting to survive to then ghting to die.
Why did I become so entranced with my own pain?
Where did I go wrong to yearn for the blade? Let me go back.
Let me ght someone else.
Let me turn the blade on the right enemy. That role belongs to you.