A trace of history
stalks me in the night

A farewell is far to be reckoned

Not many and the very few
See past the pool of blood

Rhetoric, rants, gossip
fake their banter
shake nothing
                            n
                      o
   ­                              t
                                      h
                         i
                                 n
                           g
It all comes tumbling down
its moment fixated on the present

Never leaving behind its mistakes
Never challenging their own ways
Begging only for remorse
To be heard
To be applauded

History and its predicament
brings pity
and shame