Playing god and pointing

fingers in every direction

but our own is a

beautiful way to live.

Creating heavens out of

ashes and reaching towards

the sky with every

pedestal possible.

We've taken two steps

out of a thousand.

One small step towards

understanding, and one

giant leap towards murder.

Look up at the sky and

the wrists we've slit.

Sucking the blood

straight from the veins.

Take a deep breath and

make excuses for why

it burns your lungs.

These skylines stand

like cemeteries with

headstones for us all.

This has risen

from bare ground,

everything we fabricate

and call beauty.

This is beauty with a

gun in its mouth.

This is not

what was intended.

Imagine walking in open

fields with the ashes

of generations sifting

below your feet.

Stepping over centuries

of failure that have all

come down to this.

Serving an immediate purpose

with an everlasting effect.

Mother, this is a sign

of our gratitude.

Ripping the umbilical in

half before conception.

Your eulogy spilling

from our cracked lips.

We are your sons and daughters.

We rake open your chest and

watch the heart come to stillness.