On opposite sides of the path there are two walls constructed.
The children laugh and squeal behind the fortifications;
Joy as the first shot rings out.
Little eyes peeping through petite holes,
Looking for their enemy.
Too young to know, they hand the dynamite to one another;
Sparklers against the impossibly black sky.
Then, wait, one is hit!
And real screams of agony and pain arise from his bubbling, spattering lips,
Tears inundate his eyes. As he lay drowning, the boy loses himself
Amongst the blood, yells of others, only visible is the remarkably dazzling light above him.
Hideous noises from inside himself, seemingly every fear within manifesting before him.
Apparitions of ghouls, goblins, and witches dance around him, awful chants clearly heard.
Then the sight of a life not fully lived, promises not kept, and now vacant aspirations.
Parting with his life, all disappear,
Leaving nothing but the boy, his friends,
And these childish war games.