fight (edit)

[The Four-Eyed Cat]

I likke the occassional rhyme, it adds up the somewhat playful nature of this poem. 

fight

 
blind machine guns
fire at words on the run,
you´re a bed-wetter, too,                              this made me chuckle
thoughts a sore wound.
 
behind ears, we don´t hear
but we scream all the more,
the sense is long gone,                              the sense of fighting?
the fighting claws on.                               This line feels a bit off
 
voices bark sparks,                                  
fan fervor and char,
the scars won´t be faced,                        Lovely stanza
all these ashes, a waste.

Thanks for sharing, Vaga!