They will always be
more beautiful
than you
the people you are killing.
You think it is hatred
that you feel
but it is really envy.
You imagine if you destroy them
we will forget
how tall they stood
how level
their gaze
how straight their backs.
How even the littlest ones
stood their little ground.
Meanwhile
you stand
hunched as a cobbler
in your absurd
killer’s gear
yelling
like a crazy person,
your face contorted
dripping sweat
from what would be
with or without
your lethal weapons
a bullying brow
and feral chin.
but especially children,
for sport.
Looking cool
in your own mind;
as you crunch bones
beneath your boot
that are still
forming.
Conquering.
Don’t forget the entertainment value
of your daily work
for the folks back home.
Who witness from the hillsides
in their lounge chairs.
What beautiful fun!
We are not like
those people being broken
over there
they tell each other. And for this moment
they are right.
They are not.
But what does this mean
for broken humanity?
Selfie this.