Which is which?

in poem •  last year 

We slay pieces of each other
As we crash our way
Through an average day
Slamming our brothers
As if they were dolls for play
Imitating how we were frayed
As the gods toyed with us
Calling it their loving fuss
While molding us to their animus
Training us for sacrifice in real war
Where killing is easy and rampant
Fury running a-mock, discarding care
Making ‘fuck’ mean love and hurt
Despairing hope’s need for justice’s skirt

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