There, you have your prize.
Wrapped
With rotten news of
Murder, rape and death.
It has music too, loud,
Can you hear the shrieking wails?
Of children dying
Of people crying
Of being in nauseating pain.
Humanity, this is your prize,
A much deserved one
For being so inhumane.
I assume you like what you see,
and hear,
For you never loathe on sight
Rather you run to the darkest nook
And camouflage to hide.
You wash your hands
Off cold, cold blood
And pretend to be insanely normal
When the sight fills with disgust.
You refuse to help when people seem to die
Instead, you stare at them
with a wintry cold eye.
Humanity, this is your prize,
For you have earned this reward,
Don’t you dare cringe or flinch
And don’t you dare rebuff.
However, we have a lingering doubt
In our forever doubtful heads
Why do you even pretend to exist?
Are you not already dead?
