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The war has begun. Dry your eyes. Pack your green canvas bags. Sandwiches and bottled water. Microplastics be damned. Single use plastic stare. Maybe you'll see Mum again. She sends you messages through Facebook, but lack the response to reply. Today I'm being taught to shoot an assault rifle. Crisis management on the battlefield. Watch out for drone strikes. My backpack's looking worn. Haven't heard from Mum lately. I hope she's okay. Missing my family. Feeling the whole in my chest like a fresh bullet wound. Perhaps that isn't so far from the truth. Waking up at 5 in the morning. Tomorrow we march again. Sun rises and I smile at the scuds of white cloud. Appreciate the sun while I can. Tomorrow it may no longer be there.
'battlefield' poetry by veganterrorist