I find it hard to sleep
Images of a sea of fire
Buckshot through my brain
A televised loss
So graciously accepted by
A people who braved the
Day of Fire once before
I'm watching them
They look like mannequins
stock-still then wide-eyed
Zombies with their mouths
Wrenched open in a collective
Rictus of horror
And yet they go on
Animated once more and bravely
Picking their way through devastation
What have we become?
It's what we have been all along
Tiny specks that fill a much
Larger landscape
The mindscape of some obscene unseen figure
Who holds our destiny in hands of ice
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