Duck and Run

Pinned down by a volley of rainbows.

Mortar rounds rip through men.

Their tears puddle on the ground

Carving out tiny canyons

While they still dodge rounds.

Bodies scattered by the wrath of elders.

Crying and screaming for a savior.

A rally is needed.

Charging toward the line,

A few unleash a volley of rainbows.

After the colors settle,

Two emerge from the battle.

The youngster fires his weapon

A streak of blue whizzes

By the elder's face. He smirks.

The Elder mimics a pitcher

His red bullet flies out of his hand.

It buries itself in the belly of the youngster,

Who quickly wraps his arms around his gut.

The red ball sits nestled in his arms,

Never hitting the ground.