A Eulogy on the Lips of the Dead

Playing god and pointing fingers in every direction but our own is a
beautiful way to live. Creating heavens out of ashes and reaching
towards the sky with every pedestal possible. We've taken two steps out
of a thousand. One small step towards understanding, and one giant leap
towards murder. Look up at the sky and the wrists we've slit. Sucking
the blood straight from the veins. Take a deep breath and make excuses
for why it burns your lungs. These skylines stand like cemeteries with
headstones for us all. This has risen from bare ground, everything we
fabricate and call beauty. This is beauty with a gun in its mouth. This
is not what was intended. Imagine walking in open fields with the ashes
of generations sifting below your feet. Stepping over centuries of
failure that have all come down to this. Serving an immediate purpose
with an everlasting effect. Mother, this is a sign of our gratitude.
Ripping the umbilical in half before conception. Your eulogy spilling
from our cracked lips. We are your sons and daughters. We rake open
your chest and watch the heart come to stillness.