Martyrs

Martyrs

 Is it too late to show the martyrs LOVE?
 To soak their sadness in bleach awhile?
 Will they never turn back?
 The weight of desperate ideology
 a magnet that pulls a heart
 that lost one too many battles
 For some kind of THRILL
 For some kind of PURPOSE
 Soaking their conscience in 
 a stranger’s blood
 What do they have to lose?
 What do they have to gain?
 All they know is a sitcom existence,
 empty pockets and pain
 The weak attach to the strong
 for a piece of the glory
 Another dream dead
 Another atrocity committed 
 Sounds like the same old story

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