the children were so eager to become rats
imprisoned by the carousel’s swing
that they turned a travesty of the purpose of life
unless life had no meaning
and the sky only meant to look down
on scrap skeletons embedded in quicksand
the coming wave will wash away
everything that built your love
made you belong
everything that kept you warm and safe
everything above and below that cared for you
forget yourself like other expendable heroes
in a fight for an early grave
nothing comes out of no place
but everything goes in there
tear
who needs this spectacle
when it always rains blood