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Battle on the Bedroom Floor
04/15/2007 @ 3:48pm
By:
poet_of_elves

Above the paper airplanes fly,
Below them army-men stand high,
They raise their guns and out they shoot,
Bullets made of dust and loot.
They clip a wing, and paper falls,
Another crunches against a wall,
They raise a cheer, but it falls short,
The airplanes fire; they must abort!
They hide beneath a rocking chair,
While paper pummels through the air.
The general calms the nervous men,
Before they charge back out again.
They all stand fast, and take the blows,
Both sides fight hard, but neither slows.
Both will fight to the bitter end,
Both have hostile points to vend.
A soldier’s wounded; barely alive,
An airplane takes a grave nosedive.
Then Boom! Boom! up the stairs he flies,
The soldiers stop their morbid cries.
The door flies open, the airplanes fall,
The soldiers position themselves in a crawl.
He gaily then positions his toys,
So much like many other boys.
His hands wrapped ‘round his planes and men,
The battle soon resumes again,
With sound effects and thoughts galore,
Toys come to life on a bedroom floor.

 
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