Arithmetic Warfare

I am trying to continue writing every day at least until school starts, and I've been doing great, except for the fact that I wrote something yesterday AFTER I had posted my old poem titled "O! What A Night" well, here it is, what I wrote yesterday, and tomorrow I will post what I wrote today, and so on. I hope I'll have my internet working again tomorrow, but we'll see. For now I'm borrowing a laptop from someone.

This poem is called Arithmetic Warfare, and is a poem geared towards children about the horrors of war. It's not exactly my best work, but I think the ending is pretty powerful, so perhaps your excuse it's fallacies once you reach the end.

All the children

Punished for not knowing

See the rabbits and deer

And dogs and cats

And little baby birds who cannot fly

Run from where they once were

To where they will later reside.

It is not that they play

But that they sense

They sense things we do not

And those senses are flaring on this day.

That is why you are the punished children

You are the ones who do not know

The birds and beasts

The fish and sheep

They know of what comes as you sit

Alone in your classroom

Listening to the teacher's drones

Instead of the drones from the sky.

Above is the fury of another world

Falling upon us

And you

You learn of three times two

Is six little airplanes flying above

Four times two is the eight little bombs

And twelve times two

are the twenty four little boys

And little girls

Who will not make it home tonight.