genocide

power is power
the law of the land
those living for death will die by their own hands,
head shakes and series and living for seduction
marvel at metal shells and dream of the life the bullet took with
its own sparks like ideas
get spent on someone's armor and
flee the scene towards horizons
like walls

a pale flag flies where we fall
filtered through the self-righteous halos,
the smoke becomes Glory,
the end of the struggle is a struggle to keep,
the only means to peace is force of arms threatening
those who would wage war,
a nuclear stalemate and
the promise of annihilation on both ends of the board,
round and round,

self-preservation spins the gears of genocide.