Divide (an acrostic poem)

Division was always Vivian’s strong suit

It didn’t matter if it was numbers or people

Vivian could separate the goats from the sheep

It didn’t matter what defined goat or sheep

Determined to put her skills to use, Vivian turned to politics

Except she found being a pollster much better to her liking

 

Image: globalanimalpartnership.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/dr9vw2yzvfugmblrb48g.jpg

Costly (an acrostic poem)

Casualty numbers kept trickling in

Obscuring the greatness of the victory

Still, Vincent had to admit he’d lost over a quarter of his troops

They sold their lives dearly though

Littering the fertile fields with their enemy’s dead

Years later the soil still held the scent of their sacrificial blood

 

Image: medievalchronicles.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/battle-agincourt-king-henry.jpg

Numbers (an acrostic poem)

No matter how you calculated it, Deidre was in trouble

Unless she could find another way to figure it out

Many digits danced and twirled in front of her

But none of them sat still long enough for her to make them real

Everything was just irrational to her at that moment

Really she just wanted to be done and have a piece of pie

So she left the equation to solve itself and had dessert

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d4/Pi_pie2.jpg

Infection (an acrostic poem)

Inside their numbers kept growing

Not stopping at borders, always invading

Focused on only two things

Enabling the creation of more invaders and

Capturing the resources to continue the previously mentioned creation

Thousands becomes millions become billions

Igniting a resistance focused on scorched earth tactics.

Obliterating all foreigners, hurting the natives, stopping the advance

Natural order reestablished, the white cell count and fever reduce back to normal

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/06/1900_Blood_cells.jpg