WWI Photos

What is it with us,

Interested only in what truly disgusts.

We look at photos of war,

The gurgling gassed man,

And his peeling bloody hands.

What is it with us,

Filled with chatter, superfluous.

We hate the battle,

but as it repels,

we see a fizzling bomb shell.

What is it with us,

As our legs forward thrust.

What whispers inside to take a look closer,

We look away,

But even still our curiosity urges us to stay.

Why do we run,

Why do we hide,

When will this darkness inside

Take away all that is good,

And thrust us behind another gas mask hood.