The War

A long time ago

In another millennia

I went to the war

By free will

Not as a soldier

But as a writer and aidworker

I failed miserable

To change the world

But maybe I helped

Someone to live

A better life

For a few moments

That is something

Next to nothing

But still

Something

Ratata

Distant gunfire from the hill

Then the noise of silence

So many bullets

Flying away

Flying Avery

In every direction

Ricocheting on roofs, walls and trees

Losing the causality

Hitting people and things by misfortune

Lost cases, lost life’s

Empty eyes stirring out in the eternal darkness

Of afterlife