The truth is never nice

The last vestiges of humanity

Lay tattered on the ground,

Among the bodies and the rubble

This is brutal and not profound,

It’s the truth of our callousness

As mankind shows its psychotic side,

It seems there are those easily averse

To relish and revel in genocide,

And a few of us fight this tendency

Some of us hold on to love,

Some of us look for signs of peace

Looking out for the pure white dove.