Floods, Landslides, Wildfires, and Dust

Who are we murdering
This fine morning? Maybe
Lob in a few more bombs,

Said the kid with the game,
Not a literary
Gamer, obviously,

Not the kind who creates
Worlds with richly detailed
Narratives to explore,

The kind who shoots to kill,
Bored on the ratty couch
Until some event lobs

A few more bombs, human
Derived or otherwise,
In through a flimsy door.