Eggshells Poem by Daniel Y.

what a load of Bolshevik,
(the crime, peninsula)
the closet commies
with tiptoe-ing tanks.

Ukraine: untrue, EU.
Socialist-esque.
Feeling the tug-
-of-war, and
the bullet-tag.

The red queen lost more than her
size thirteen shoes
when the walls of Jericho
heard an open sky.

I mean capital B:
the sandwich cut in half
‘cause the older brother wanted it all.
Perhaps it was Hap ran us into the wall,
because you can never stop walking east,
on this road is paved with empty shells.