These Days In History
The countries lined up like beads on a necklace, spitting words out like international and order, some of them ran together; And they promised us, never again. But there is foam gurgling out of children's mouths as they writhe and convulse, their faces pulled taunt and blank, like a doll's face, eyes unflinchingly wide, pupils tight, as life is drawn out of them, like a demon leaving the exorcised. You lied, because the countries line up like beads on a necklace, spitting nothing out, just wordlessly shaking their heads at the hundreds of people already dead; And the only thing you're promising is that there will probably be more. But you said, Never. Again. You cannot politically correct and excuse yourself of the word never, or title the hope you gave, a miscommunication. You lied, and there is foam at their mouths, and if you don't climb out of your silk sheets, soon it'll be on the world's, and there will be no international or order,...