Battlefield


Love is a battlefield.
Casting away the hurt
sending them into no-man's-land
with outcomes unknown.
Love is a battlefield.
Shots firing left and right.
Sometimes missing, sometimes landing.
Hitting thoughts, minds, hearts.
Love is a battlefield.
Creating mercenaries,
trained in pain
without consent.
Forcing them into attack
attack the innocents
again and
again and
again.
Creating more
misused and abused
mercenaries;
trained in blood:
ruthless and unrelenting,
cruel and uncaring,
broken and berating,
sick and screaming.
Love is a battlefield.
Its use is just one thing:
Calling out the death toll ring.

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