World Shack I (Horror)- Cellotaped Limbs

She was born the day the wars begun,

Or so she was told,

She had never known war and life apart,

And to her, cruelty and endurance

Were the only two ways of life...

She rocked on her rickety tool back and forth, back and forth.
Sipping her first tea in three months, she wiped the spilt bit down her front.
She had been running; now she sat wheezing,
Smiling, she sat craning her neck into the antiquity darkness in the west…
Trying to reason with her mind’s lewd pain
As the darkness was retracting its cover
Slowly from her scars, and the gaping hole on her right shoulder.

The rattle house of war-weapons now become free, so very free;
The battles are at long last over, though ropes still dangled from the trees
And poles, hungry clouds and hungry bellies
Can collapse on to the drought-dredged grounds in convulsive pain…
They can daydream about morrows ahead,
They can drink to their birthdays again,
And with eyes pried,see faces, not photographs…down some memory lane.

She looked away…
From the light that played on the frays of the glass
Cracked in the middle by a bullet one day,
She looked away,
From the patches of yellow on her threadbare floor
Where she was born,
She looked away,
From the dark that moved away
And the light that made its way,
Resting itself on both her shoulders,
She looked away.