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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.