Gunpowder

Withered by hungry fingers

Steamed with burning whispers

Rolled by fair Chinese hands

Dried as round bullets

Poor ones sealed in nationless plastic

Rich ones wrapped in foil

Their hearts are cold and hard

As the arctic rocks

Deprived of sunlight

Older than their years

Aching for freedom

Yearning to dance

From green to grey

Then evergreen once again

Exploding from the sensation

Of the hot water

Drowning out their pain and insecurities

All the setbacks, drawbacks and wilted promises

For brief moments in the sun

Through death, there is an afterlife

They swim in heaven, leaving only a smoky flavour