At Least It Was Evil
Have you not studied the plagues of political death?
At least they were hated
At least they were victims of somebody's whim
There was consolation in it
The loathing of the persecutor as he slams the door
The casual indifference of the switch
There is evil at least in being murdered
If only for the lines on your neck
Instead
We are dying now for curiosity
We are dying for the decent human habit
Of interfering with things
Educate that out of the psyche
You would have to create children who did not
When looking at the caterpillar
Study it's avoidance of the fire
Who looked in the pond and only looked
Who watched without changing
Who knew without altering
Who willing suffered a curable death
We are dying so innocently now
No machine guns
How calm it is outside the laboratories
