We heard the hum
of the flies first
on this deathscape,
this new home of ours.
And then we saw
the corpses of our
     souls.
We were judge
     and jury,
delivering a long,
mean sentence ...
better yet to feel
the executioner's
     gentle touch ...
but kindness was killed --
the ****** we first
     committed.
There is no forgiveness --
mercy was lost
     to the day.
But the flies,
they came first,
finding death with
     uncanny instinct.
No going back now;
no outstretched angel wings...
only the flies,
the incessant hum
     of the flies.