Everyone is good for something.

Even if you can't move,

can't speak,

can't hear,

can't see the

horrors of the world unfolding around us like

a badly written romance

and can't feel the pain in the people around you

when you die, your body becomes fertilizer for

beautiful white flowers that will be

crushed underneath the boots of soldiers,

only boys, really, boys pretending to be strong so they can assure themself they're useful,

marching away to war.