Iprin Ghost
To death the inaccessible, the never-pleadable,
start whispering, like shepherds in the fog,
lost in their utter boundlessness.
Stand and talk about the night.
I know it can be done with a mutter, stand
and listen to the walls crumbling, the projectiles
detonating, windows shattering, showering you with
broken glass.
In all the cautions you were using, my friend, you
failed to run downstairs, a veritable fount of hope
undeserved. And now I must entertain your corpse
lying motionless for days, until the sirens stop and
the digging in the park begins.
You do not hear sighs and laments
of the people who suffer by virtue of
your slaughter? Sleep my friend, in your dark cozy shelter,
for the benefit of a nation.
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