War is Raw

A poem about War

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1. War is Raw

War is raw
In every sense
of the word

Virgin Metal
Elements mined and mixed
Cast for the sole intention
Of piercing another soul

Ripped from the Earth 
Only to return there
At 681 miles an hour

Shells discarded
In a deafening flash.

Their contents projected
In literal expressions of both
Fight and Flight 

Brass and Lead
Left countless dead

But beyond bullets, blood
Or whose soil it seeps into
Entire cultures undermined
Often eradicated
Absolutely intentionally
For private purposes
And pockets filled of
People you'll never know
For reasons they'll never tell you

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