Charred, scarred, molten
Virtually unrecognizable

Words I use to describe
The teapot
I left on the stove too long.

Never thought I’d use those words
To describe
A face.

I can throw away the teapot
Replace it and you’ll never know.

He can’t do that
With his face.

A void where his eye used to be
The other unseeing.

He couldn’t crack a smile
Even if he wanted to.

A ghost hovers above
His mother’s still body.

Bullets ripped his features,
Fire ate his soul.

He can’t replace anything,
Or anyone.
Least of all himself.

Charred, scarred, molten
Now sadly recognizable.

The ugly face of war.

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