Unknown are the names
of the flowers that have been trampled
Birds have fallen to the Earth
and long for the wind
Prayers won't solve anything
Only the will to fight
can change the here and now!
O pigs who laugh at the resolve
to walk over corpses to move forward
Livestock complacency? False prosperity?
Give us the freedom of dying,
starving wolves!
The humiliation of being caged
is what triggers us to fight back
We hunters slaughter prey
beyond the castle walls,
consumed with surging bloodlust,
as our crimson bows and arrows
pierce scarlet holes into the twilight.

Tear tracks form, as they used to.
Blood seeps out, as it used to do.
This facade couldn't last.
His soul, my soul;
The charred, cracked, screaming remains of it:
Pleads for death.
It has been through Hell and back
My heart trudges on, a tired, weary activity
My lungs wheeze, struggling to perform the most basic tasks
*and why should it have to continue?

There was a purpose to it all. To the man who just missed his taxi in New York, to the young child hopping between rocks deep in a forest, on a bubbling stream. Just as the city pulsed with life, seeping through cracks in the pavement repaired just last week, in the wheels of the taxi driving away and in the man's curse under his breath...
Just as the city pulsed with life, billions of trillions of ideas and thoughts and galaxies in heads thinking about their coworker one cubicle over who mentioned offhandedly to their friend about not having plans this Thursday evening, about whether their mother had remembered to take their medication this morning because she always was forgetting and did she realize how much easier it would be to hire a servant for these things...
Just as the city pulsed with life, as did the forest, a snake slithering between the dancing shadows from the shaking leaves, the child unaware of this impending surprise until the moment of impact, yielding a sharp report and a mad dash for an exit...
So did the forest, birds swooping between branches swaying ever so slightly from the gust caused by the boy's speed, one train of thought, one heartbeat racing to catch up with its feet...
So did the forest, with billions of trillions of thoughts and ideas in heads wondering about whether the snake had bitten him or not, about whether their grandmother had remembered to take her medication this morning because she was oh so forgetful and Daddy did always say they needed a maid since he was always busy and Mommy left...
So did the forest.
Feet flew, wheels sped.
A puppy, patiently waiting by the window, tennis ball in mouth, for her buddies to come home. Her older dog companion had fallen asleep in the wait.
And in these moments, of waiting, all with one destination...they were already together in their minds.

-

It was the worst kind of death. Not the physical death-no, this was much worse than that.

This was the death of souls. Hopes, lives, dreams, crushed, exterminated, obliterated. It was the death of everything it meant to be human.

Emotions didn't exist. Numbness was an inevitable factor of this horrible place. There was no escape.
They didn't have to worry about escape. No person, no soul, no spirit survived the factory of death.
As all factories do, products were made. In this case, the products were the mindless, numb, empty shells of what were once lively, happy human bodies. Every year was a fresh batch, ripe for a more advanced death factory. There was no reason for it, either. Money ended up being lost for the factories of death. There was no purpose. No escape. No heaven. No hell. Endless purgatory.

Suicide was illegal and impossible, since it was  *a crime to destroy government property.

One after another, everything piles up
Is there an escape?

He stood on her doorstep, flowers in hand.
In coat of his father's, resembling a man.
Still queenless a king, now he stands like a slave.
Flowers in hand, resembling a grave.