The Jealous War

It was very edifying. 

When you shut the mouth of 
the oppressed― 
the mass grave speaks. 

The widow was still mourning, 
after the causality of my belief, 
my psyche, my rights. 

You don't make me, then 
how can you break? What 
was the height of fall, 
will you let me know? 

The volatile words are now 
losing their import. No 
real, only cosmetic display. 

Let the celebration of 
bold death begin.