Days I've Been Thinkin' About War

the word sickness crosses the night

in flashes of unaffected energy

runnin' through telephone wires.

a tired tone of voice communicates,

or rather tries to,

some pain we could only imagine

or not even.

it is a strange distant land

in someone else's heart.

there's nothing left for me to say

or do

so I don't. In silence I search for

pen and paper

and in silence I confess 

I do not understand.