Life is a fiction,
An imagination out of nothing,
We create "us" to console our genocidal thoughts,
As we massacre our own,
We don't think of what we created,
"They'll **** me" is what we tell ourselves,
As it really is our pride and strong beliefs of a greater power,
Yet how do we cope,
We use the horror of killing as a form of pride and power,
An expansion of our own stupidity,
We don't have to **** to gather pride,
Just own the "us" and you will consume the power from the living,
The more you own the more cocky you become,
Then there is the religion,
Where there is no wrong doing,
But rather was done to please,
They have no remorse for what they did,
Just a sense of injustice,
Due to the fact that what they did was right,
But why judge them all,
Why deem them irrational human beings,
That whole society of innocent people,
Have we become no better than the small number of irrational people,
Why do we dehumanize these people,
This is the life of fantasies that sadly become realities.