Infinitude

Lament that war's turned man against,

Friends and fellow men.

Our world's ruin is not if,

But rather that of when.

...

From PMCs to small militia,

Destroying all that's loved.

Hope's gone to the dogs of war,

With no help from high above.

...

Guns unholstered, blades unsheathed,

Each day a proclamation.

Always that of a new conflict,

Never of salvation.

...

Calls for reason always fail,

Cast to the bottom rung.

The war economy dominates,

No songs of joy are sung.

...

Compassion has been replaced,

With greed's enticing spice.

We embraced this war economy,

And have all paid the price.

...

Perhaps when war has found its end,

No more shall life be ill.

But as madness escalates,

Far away is that day still.