It starts with
Just a trigger
A buzzer, an alarm.
A shot fired from a practicing gun.
A dart of aim,
A gong of cacophony,
Rattle of screeching steel tyres
Its skin, tearing apart.
Fire sparks stretching on the road.
My voice, a shrill of tongue
Hard rain dripping
Striking the tin roof.
Any sound is a game here
Playing with the disturbed politics.
Sounds metamorphosed to war cries
Creativity escaping through bullet holes.
Broken vase of poetry
Dead flowers of elegy
Decorating the epitaph
Of silenced sound of amnesiac memory.
Is it also easy to forget war?