Setting

Damn you, Brett
Damn your beauty
Even the clothes yield
The hair yields
The unladylike
Airs of your language
Yield
And lilt
Men
Drink themselves mad
For you
But
I am too shattered
By the tumult
The world is sick
We don't need
World Wars
To make it so
But we are
At war
No authority
Has announced it
So we think we are
At peace
We think it is all
Over There
And not here
And not us
But it is
All Here
And all us
You don't know
What your beauty
Does to the world
I still see it
As I blink these tears away
And pour myself another drink