hold ur fire.. need 2 check my txts

British press is with the rebel forces    
advancing on Tripoli    
in pressed Hollister collars    
phones and digital cameras in hand    
smiling along with brothers and friends    
bullets buzzing past their heads    
loosely shooting at fellow men    
'just doing their jobs'    
delivering Hell the souls of those    
that fly no colours    
     
it's another day    
another twenty-four where children feed    
on parents' hopes and little else    
women pray to gods that fail their faith    
to bring their husbands home again    
     
with no music to influence our moods    
to cheer on a slaughter or cry for the dead    
no CNN cueing us this time around    
no poetry to move the depths    
     
there is laid bare an insanity    
in faces of calm and clear sobriety    
numb, a piece of humanity lost    
to the vacuum      
that is our endless pursuit    
and attempted preservation of happiness