Bastions of minions compulsed by the roar
A minor compaction of death
On the lawn how
Upside the distracting messages
Cause so much to be wrong
How leaders become the problem death but a number
And rights are all talking points
Unless they are yours
How propaganda intenses
And soars until lies become truth
And truth is no more
When we look days long past and since might we see our children
As pawns in some war or as
Vital to survival above commerce in ethics and mores
There is no one to hold guilty
No more the game
As a pawn is to queen
Yet I discern among all the collective a willingness to hate to cast the first stone
When we should look at ourself first
See where we went wrong