THE REGRETFUL BEATS OF OUR OWN WEAKLING HEARTS OF DARKNESS:

Cannot Console These Countless Ones

Maimed, Raped, Starved, Suffering and Dead:

The world is dark, beneath this abysmal weight of death and cruelty, which blots the light of hope and truth from view. The hate is strong within our souls, which barter towards the new attainment of some undeserved glory. We strive with weapons of wood, stone, iron, steel or atom to deny our many neighbours that which they themselves both desire and deserve.

The nation is shattered, drawn to genocide, warfare and rebellion, built for a mighty and unending slaughter, which can neither be avoided nor undone; while the defunct and defective shambles of this unhappy state turn voraciously inwards, with an insatiable cancerous hunger, to inexplicably consume itself, through a monumental glut of hate and blood and tears.

The child is starved, dangling from a thread of poverty and want, reduced to a shriveled skeletal deformation, fed upon, from within, by the burning tentacles of sickness, ignorance and parasites, where once a hopeful future dared to rear its gentle head. Nothing now remains of that which this new life once had promised, as all has come to darkness; while we continue to ignore, blissfully unaffected, those innocents, who are there forever turned to dust,

by our own neglect, inaction and abuse.