Streets with the blood of our sins,
washing souls marked unfit
to save,
to much effort
it takes,
we say.

Homes torn asunder,
lives to shreds,
but we here cry about
broken nails,
and lost sleep
where the dead lie with
eyes wide.

Our devotion to violence is
the likeness
of the Moon
revolving
around our Earth,
constant,
relentless.