the small ones are always the first to go.
white or black-
no one cares.
War?
No, simply a game to be won.

fluidly as one, they surge forward-
relentless in their killings
yet their loss is so much greater-
itsasifthey throw themselvesuponthose spears.
sacrificing and paying dearly for some foolhardy order-
dying so that others might live.

can they even think for themselves?

their expressions blank on those
cold, solemn little statues and
such pure, smooth enamel -
but what of the churning feelings inside?


To fight for such a worthless cause
To fight a war that never ends.

chess.