The Keres were tired.

They'd put in too much work

The past century.

Every second of every day

Was filled with painful,

Horrid death.

 

They blame the mortals

Who can't stop for just a minute

To see how

Selfish

They are.

They care more about

Money and Wealth,

Fame and Fortune,

Than the people outside who

Struggle just to live.

They don't care if the drop

Bombs on villages or

Gas thousands,

They don't want to give the Keres a break.

 

Maybe they need a visit.

Maybe the Keres should just

Stop by and take them away

In the most violent and

Bloody way possible.

But they can't.

 

The powerful are untouchable.

But the weak,

The weak are free for picking.