Playful Games of War

There are sounds of little boys outside.
Laughter and giggles and dances in the rain.
As they play in the backyard,
They talk of things little boys would talk about:
Water guns, action figures, rockets, videogames,
Rockets, bombs, survival for the day,
Murder, destruction, instances of vivid r---.
Just the usual things they get to see every day.

Unfortunately for their bodies,
Perhaps fortunate for their minds,
Their talks of the world around them,
Became talks of the world they live in,
Because talks were now screams.
Short-lived, visceral screams.
The art of war:
The guns, the rockets, the bombs.

The toys of the grown-ups
has vanquished these little boys,
And their lives live on as
Specs of a blood-filled painting.