I slept for a week
while the world around me died.
Inside, so did I.
Self-righteous lips pray
for those trapped on sinking ships—
no absolution.
Regardless of cost
good advice springs up like weeds.
No truth is required.
Souls have become cheap
worth less than the USD—
profit margin-less.
We are all equal
laid head to toe in mass graves
united in death.
We could escape this
if we push each other up.
Clenched fists are no help.
A final word’s worth
has the value of hot air.
Together, we win.
Divided we fall...
a long descent to nothing—
blame falling with us.