The cigarette burns out in his beard,
that remnant of the soul remaining,
embers dripping
to the cold hard ground below,
ground that drinks death and bleeds life.

The men,
their faces have become battlefields,
so much hidden between every scar.
The boys,
their faces have been painted over;
never will they be young again.

the ones who fight battles inside.
the one who cannot stop making more armies.

The line between love and hate blurs,
becomes passion,
becomes a thing I guard against.

In the night, when I hear the bombs of my own deeds
the gunshots of my words,
reverberating in my head,
I want to return,

to make something of myself on that field,

or else,
to be eliminated. 

Mollie Grace Greenberg is a junior at the Miami Valley School in Centerville, Ohio, where she participates in theater, the school literary magazine, and Model United Nations, and is the president of an environmental awareness club. She has received awards for her writing in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards competition. She lives in Yellow Springs, Ohio, with her parents, and she loves rainy days, tea, friends, chocolate, acting, and books. For Mollie, writing poetry is a form of breathing.