A Fragile Peace

A grinding narrativeSet on a razor's edge,The culmination of a lifetime.It stutters to a stopThen crumbles into ruins,Bones held up by wire.You don't putThe gun in your mouthBecause you like the way that it tastes.It's a testamentTo the will of manAnd the progress we have made.In a senseWe've done our bestTo lay it all to waste.So cavalierAnd so secureDressed in our Sunday finest.A debt we all must pay,Bit by bit by agonizingPieces of ourselvesTo warlords and profiteersAll huddled in dark masses,Xenophobes and killers.Commercialized regretManufactured in the falsestPretense of sorrow."Those wretched fools,"you'll think,"All huddled in dark masses,Ripe for the taking."Sycophants and slaves.Bone soaked in blurry tears,The matted grey of ashes,A liturgy on our failings.Choke down a EucharistOf flesh and tinny bloodTo find a fragile, fleeting peace.Crawl back from whence you came, tormentors.Lie in the bed that you have made.Suffer the fools in silence,Let your actions speak for themselves,Because actions speak for themselves.