the skirmish...

entrenched within our own personal embattlements,
a pox upon their house;
salvos lobbed from mortars encamped,
aligned with weaponry enhanced and revamped,
aimed with deadly precision,
annihilation the impossible mission
the high ground is what we espouse.

acceptable loss calculated,
refugee status relegated,
a war torn plain lies desolate;
who did what first?
only blood will quench that thirst
and drank only from the cup immaculate.

Be ye Hatfield or be ye McCoy,
my guess the casualty count is high;
as tolls are exacted,
pleadings for mercy protracted,
and finally...
a collective unconditional surrendered sigh.

And now what to do with all the new found spoils,
another yard sale?