I quite enjoyed this. I think if you were to clean it up a bit, both gramatically and structurally, the impact would be all the more profound. Some in-line suggestions:
I despise your colored, crimson eyes
that fly like the flags you flew when you
threw bombs and played napoleon.
(you were always conquering whatever
you could get your hands on.)
I hate those pompous uniformed shoulders,
that machine gun mouth firing off the rounds
of your empty words--you knew perfectly well
that those were tears in my eyes.
I should have known it would blow up in my face,
lining my face with third degree burns
--instead of your lips, only
your superficiality on my charred remains.
Can I just say:
you're no deeper than the beer can
you’re drinking and “fuck you”
doesn’t mean we can still be friends.
You know as well as I that battlefields become [I especially enjoyed these last three lines]
soldiers' graves, and everyone is always
as pathetic as they think they are.
Points: 890
Reviews: 103
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