Shelling Once again, once again, My energy ripped from the skin of my hands, Poltergeist to my rifle and dead-end nerves. Dull, dull, dull death- Like a black and white still. Too quickly still. Blank space, void in a canvas- littered. Dead trees, dead trees, charred trees, men. Live suspended on a vein, my #life, my #life- Comes shooting into me. Still, still, too slowly still- A radius around me of white. Why? Red means stop, no more, stop. But a slow circle around me Nothing, nothing, nothing, Shells.
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