We Play Dead ©

October 18, 2012

We play dead

Amid the ruins,

We shoot bullets of pretend
From behind the broken walls;
At our friends
Our imagined enemy.
We whisper made up secrets
Steal a flag of rags,
To win a piece
Of stale and stolen bread.
My broken torch becomes a laser beam
A precious secret weapon,
That will win a war
A war of make believe.
Our guns are sticks
Our bombs are stones,
We play dead
Amid the ruins.
Marching to keep warm
Taking target practice,
Our sling shots filled
With abandoned garden pebbles.
Old soda cans
Empty as our bellies
Hollow as our hearts,
Fall broken to the ground;
Crumpled and abandoned
We play dead
Amid the ruins.

©Author Berni Mac

October 2012

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