served as pleasure

we all carry violence-
it is in our hearts,
this willing need to blow off steam
and rejoice in our own normalcy,
driving away anything that is different
from us.

we make murder like
the sun makes shine,
and we wallow in the stink of
anger like the gods
we hold divine.

not two of us are totally alike,
we plant the seed of hate
and water it with a river
that has burst its seams
and the devil may cry at our
mistaken bludgeoning
of the suffering of our brothers.

but we hold true
and dash the deeds
that make us the animals
we fear,
and we tear apart anything
outside the spectrum
of our particular beliefs
to cause grief
for those who may
restrain us.

it comes slick
in our minds to harm,
to hurt, to maim, to break
until nothing is left
of that which we fear
and we shed a tear for those who fall
by our hands
in foreign lands
for the sins of leaders
bent on weeding out the weak.

of all our made up gods,
vengeance is the voice
of the Lord, Amen.

anything outside of our
forced learning may succumb
to the righteous weapons
of the blessed.

but no one likes to look at
themselves.
no one wants to be the
victim.
no one wants to be the
single voice
shouting out into the night,
"This must end!"

what changes have you made?