Warfast
by chelle
It is five a.m. somewhere in the world.
Bombs cut the sky through for the morning sunrise.
Earth swollen fresh graves, the dead bodies hurled.
War tyrants wanted, more dead than alive.
Blood spattered walls, kiss of devastation.
Baby face grins disappear from the earth.
Lion's den shaken. The sleeping cubs wake.
Two kings with one missile keep them in sight.
Float the curds to the top, skim charred remains.
Beneath the surface buttered cream spread flesh.
By seven a.m. somewhere in the world,
the starving scramble. It's now warfast time.
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