I'll never understand why we find ourselves
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in this same desolate battlefield
clutching familiar stones, arms coiled back
to hurl our insecurities at one another
for nothing more than the sastisfaction
of knowing that fragile bones will splinter
from the savagery of our trajectories.
Is there a satisfaction in devastation
in the quid pro quo of accusations
in the attempt to balance blame
or is it malice that returns us to our corners
tensed on the precipice of yet another war?
Do the reasons matter at all,
or is it just our pattern, made ritual
by the unyielding nature
of these stones of contention,
Do we need an intervention
or should we just let fly,
only to circle back later for another try.
Smile if you're stupid,
laugh if you understand.