small and insignificant child you will be canonized some day as you and your peers those unwitting martyrs to the cause of the global economy go back to school so your parents can go back to work your deaths will be for the greater good of the profit margin and the president’s re-election campaign
as well as bolstering his ego
it was to my understanding hand-to-hand combat though there were supporting efforts the fights were on an individual basis as such no memorial has been planned yet these hundred thousand souls should not be forgotten for when a soul battles for life the battle is for all life all those that soul touched or would have touched have also suffered death some will know to mourn others will only feel a sense of emptiness
not knowing why nor could it be explained if they knew it was the death of a soul not met that created this void in their life for how does one explain the death of so many to satisfy the insane aspirations of one man
like a child staring out the back window of their parent’s car we pine for what was as if it were really as wonderful as we imagine we forget the arguments and incidences that ended with our early depature declaring that we’ll never return to this god forsaken place or talk to this persona of satan ever again yet when we are isolated from reality we embellish the few morsels of joy we had creating a fictionalized historical event probably as truthful as most history where the good guys always win and the damsel in distress is a kung fu master seems we’re always looking for the rationale for events how do they fit into the plan and purpose of life well this might surprise you but there is no real purpose nothing’s been ordained your empty minutes and hours are controlled by no god or saint it’s you staring out the back window instead of looking at where you’re driving to
like locusts that devour every living thing grave robbers have set upon the land they’ve come in waves the first were those just seeking the finest treasures all the while spray painting graffitii to cover up all the sacred symbols the second wave was comprised of magistrates ministers of the law seeking personal glorification by possessing those things that would extend their power in the eyes of others the last wave were common men tearing through the tomb seeking scraps whatever tossed aside by those whose actions had taken justice and freedom from the nation
wrapped in a comforter of memories lying in bed head buried in pillows of what could have been day passes into tomorrow’s night when nothing changes outside the world ignores all human tragedy as if watching an old rerun and perhaps that is the case history repeating don quixotes we all
