Are You My Enemy-written in 2012
We might have been friends, but we are not.
We are enemies, facing off on the field of the dead
It’s curious when you think about it:
That though we’ve never met, we were trained to hate the other
Avenge the wrongs that have been placed on the other’s shoulders
This bloodshed is just, and necessary-so we have been told
But do you deserve this? Do we all deserve this?
Yet, here we stand, for the first time, meeting our common enemy.
You are mine, and I am yours.
Our guns are poised in our hands to take the other out.
But who wants to shoot first?
Who wants to be shot first?
I know if you shot me, my family and friends would miss me.
But who’d grieve for you?
Would it be your parents?
Would it be your spouse and your kids?
Maybe even your siblings and friends?
Pardon me while I ponder.
I know it isn’t the time.
But would you and I be friends if we met on the bus, or the train?
However, it isn’t so, and in this reality, there is only one truth:
One of us will die, and I pity you, for it won’t be me.
Farewell, my enemy.
Or is it my friend?
An original poetry submission by blaze442
