War is tasting the envelope flaps
Knowing her tongue has been there
War is humping photographs
Wrapping the nylons around your neck
War is dense crushing love
Lying on the ground with a cheekbone gone
War is feeling shame and hatred
Morals aplenty, the sky on their shoulders
War is hating the silence
Trying to fill it up with hard words
War is hiding the feelings
Burning the blame, no more fantasies
War is switching from coffee to gin
Stories like Ping-Pong balls with fancy spin
War is following the dink, staying in the pink
Trying to relax, feeling guilty sometimes
War is being too scared to be brave
Breaking your own nose out of fear
War is trusting your enemies
Being a little crazy, just enough
War is a ragged circle, fresh and original
Grotesque beauty mixed with fluid symmetries
War is not true
War cannot be false
War is the beautiful sunlight on a dead guy's face
Thanks to Tim O'Brien for the words
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