ours the sorrow
your wars shove rusting blocks across the planet
leave a stain of oil not erased by rain
ours the struggle, yours the blame
ours the sorrow
now, at sight of our belly
you show the wolf’s fang
smiling concerned, almost
stinking of saliva
this is total war
war on all fronts
war that cannot win
but only increase
until parameters break
until asymptote
when sand will cover the stain