Death is death
Whether the last groan of a soldier of child’s final breath
Death is a terrible flame that once it has begun it will never be put out
Consuming one life to create a smoke of suffering for those who remain
Or transforming a family to ashes, leaving a sole survivor in eternal doubt
For it is a fire that will never die away and where it burns it will leave a stain
Blacker than the darkest night upon a faded patch of memory
Yet, war after war flows down the river of blood created by those who will never understand
Collected and converted into cold gold by those with souls of coal
Still, in ignorance the masses are suspended, too taken by its bliss to dare to reprimand-
the arsonists of hope kindling a reaper to claim a forgotten goal
Where is the collective gasp of a million awoken dreamers torn from a fantasy?
Where is the outrage expected of a sane humanity when their species burns away like a lit photo in a cracked frame?
Death is death
Regardless of who gives it out, they all swim in the same red river rushing past
All while the humans are rushed past without reaction when they should be aghast
The birth of outrage like a star shining brazen against the darkest night
The dream of a tomorrow, speckled with yesterday’s sorrow, is a hope stolen, not borrowed
After all, if you choose to stand for nothing, what will you fall for?