Boys of the Playground by Cyndi Gacosta

The boys, after school, played war
On the big red toy that’s where they recruited
All boys of age ten and younger
They shot the air with guns made out of air
The guns shot bullets made out of spit and air
But these bullets still dug deep to make wounds
On their shins and elbows
They wiped the blood made out of dirt and air
What is left is the bump of a bruise
That blue, black and purple badge they proudly wore
Out of the cannons’ mist and sandbox gore
With watery red eyes and a limp they cried
For the end of the playground war

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