When children dress their dolls with Kevlar

When the just are accused of tyranny

When the circle is completed

We, my friends, are ready

While father makes bombs in the basement

Mother cooks scraps for her skeletons

Bones are used to bash in siblings

We, my friends, know destruction

Sucking our souls dry is a virus not of flesh

Our waters once ran deep and dark

Now we exist in a superficial drought

We, my friends, have become stark

It splits my skull with a jagged spike

And sews in a despairing boulder

Ragged stitches close my eyes

The world, my friends, set on our shoulders

A stroke I wish would take me

To cut the pain down the middle

Half this agony would bring a smile

Why, my friends, solve this sadistic riddle?

My soul is placed on the rack of helplessness

Stretched are my muscles from my spirit

Snapping back into place, yields awareness

I, my friends, no longer fear it

Two words will I utter to this world

“More weight,” press me till you crumble

You can never break my will

I, my friends, stand apart and will not stumble

Survival of the fittest is now your law

Bone dust will sting your eyes

As you rip the meat from your brother’s bodies

You, my friend, wear good as your disguise