There are rooms full people
Talking small with large, gaping mouths
I want to stab them, one by one
Until they notice and scream
I suppose it will take hours
For the fear of death in their bodies
To outweigh the fear
Of life in their minds
I want them to scream in panic
Scream for survival so that they might live
And tomorrow, when they meet again
I want them to speak of the frivolity of war
Of the importance of animalistic copulation
Of the stench of the blood and **** on the floor
I want them to refrain from cleaning the floor
So that they remember the hecatomb
And speak of the martyrs
Who reminded them of their ability to speak
Of more than just the ******* weather