tw: violence
the beauty of destruction is unmatched
watching something, someone, crumble to pieces
watching and thinking 'how sad'
yet not turning away
maybe it's ancestral
the love for watching chaos
the mess
the blur of red, orange, black
the blood spilled of fallen enemies and friends mixing
we are all the same are we not?
monsters to each other and the world that breathes us to life
she who has not complained when she was burned, cut, broken into
yet we sit and watch, almost with glee
we create more destruction
to each other and her
she is what we tread on during wars
she is what we buried ourselves into for protection from enemies
she is the metal we use for guns
she is the bullets we put into others
but the lust for blood and destruction is too strong to understand the need to maintain her
we want fire
bombs
guns
knives
we want death
YOU ARE READING
poetry by an idiot
Poetrytrigger warnings for some stuff in here, these are my thoughts. yes i see a therapist, i am healthy and okay. writing poems is fun and i wanted to share them a little
