War Crimes.

Sitting, I wait.
Pins and needles
Pierce their way
Through the leather upholstery beneath me.
Knowing what is coming,
Preparing myself for the words
You will throw at me,
I build a wall.

Anxiety overwhelms.
Frantically, feverishly
I assemble my barricade.
“Faster! Faster!”
I tell myself,
“I can feel them closing in!”

Your words come crashing
Against my unfinished barriers,
Like a thundering, violent wave,
Swallowing my salvation,
Obliterating my flimsy walls,
In its dark, murky crest.
My heroic attempts at protection
Lost within an ocean of malice.

The pins and needles
Become swords and daggers.
Your deadly diatribe
An avenging army of soldiers
A regiment of relentless reapers,
Against which
I am armourless.
My limp body
Lies motionless
On the blood-strewn battlefield.

The gunfire stops
The soldiers celebrate
Exchanging high fives.
The commander dictates,
“Another battle and victory seamlessly executed.
We strike again tomorrow, at noon.”