If only you knew

the war I’ve been fighting.

If only you knew

the pain I’ve been writing.

Starting the war,

my hands started shaking,

I looked at the enemy,

and my heart started breaking.

Bombs exploded

everywhere but my heart.

It was the enemy,

who himself broke it apart.

The shooting didn’t cease

but didn’t hurt any soldiers.

The enemy held his head high,

and walked with human boulders.

With a step in front of

my hunched little frame,

I noticed his eyes and his grin,

I noticed how he might not be to blame.

His eyes are there,

but not active.

His grin is there,

but seems held captive.

I never was shot,

but, instead, was tortured.

The enemy didn’t notice,

he kept moving forward.

I hope he turned back.

I know he didn’t mean to.

I hope he realizes I could’ve helped.

I know he’ll wonder and pursue.

The war fought on,

but nobody else was injured.

And, yet, the enemy

seemed to fall inward.

I know the enemy didn’t mean to,

he seemed to be controlled.

But, I know the enemy is you.

_And you broke my heart._