Murder

A man lies dying, a victim of a cause his name not important, nor the time of his fall Impaled in Romania, or crucified for the glory of Rome cut are the sinews of conscience, dangling from a soulless abode How many have bled, in reverence to a god or a nation holy aren't thy waters, baptizing an armada of Spanish creation For every 95 Thesis, must we have a 100 Year War October bled Stalin's revolution, a red epitaph of Leningrad lore Blame pernicious leaders, for cajoling fear and hate yet whose firm handshake slits the throat, of civilized debate A Ukrainian famine, a Jewish holocaust, a Japanese city eerily still the killing fields are always fertile, beneath the city on a hill Ignorance and greed, gorge a leviathan corpulent and crowned cannibalism is its creed, its ruddy chains writhing unbound How many voices were silenced, that sixth day of June history too often forgets, to seal a tyrant's tomb We are blessed with reason, the ability to discern is life not a precious gift, impossible to return Could you steal the last breath, from your child's loving kiss would a god give you a righteous sword, to kill one of his