War At The Age Of Three

I sit in the solemn room contemplating on what I shall do,
I glance over to the water trough and fill a bucket to the brim with infested grey water,
I march to the trenches sloshing it to and fro until it is almost empty,
I add white pellets of sand to the water and take a handful of the mixture and slap them out on the wooden barrister that frames the trenches,
I dig into the mud and find some worms which I add to my deadly concoction,
I look over to a soldier sitting in the corner and I prepare myself to attack,
I run over behind the rafter holding onto the sail that towers above us and catapult an army of mud grenades towards him,
His eyes well up with tears and he retreats to the safety of higher ground,
The feeling of triumph surges through my veins as the adrenaline hits me in the chest like a bullet,
I peer over the barrack and see two green beady eyes aiming towards me,
I run towards the track,
Up the ragged stair case, under the limp branches, and to the tunnel where I feel safe and sound,
Until….. the amplified gunshot tears through my body,
I walk with my head held in shame to the corner of the room,
And try and think of another conspicuous plan to make my life as interesting as it should be at the age of 3.