I hear the dirty wounds of laughter
I touch the wreckage of kindness
I see the conceit of pig-nose foes
I smell the blood of frightened lives
I touch the cut legs of being special
I see hardened faces of pleasure
I taste charred remains of resistance
I smell the rape of aspirations
I hear the decomposition of joy
I taste the void of screaming
And I’m here waiting for war!
© Azadeh Azad, 2012
