in all the condolences,
i find self-righteousness and laughter.
the laughter screams not of mockery, but sheer jubilation.

there are 12 cars, like 12 horsemen.

what will we do about this?

the sanctity of devotion has eroded
into stubs.

i will stay behind
tallying the wrongs

for what?

a grateful notion won't bring me back.
a moral lesson won't be learned.

we have bequeathed terror since our births

and there's no way out

never a way out.