Wolves In Suicide Vests (Poem)

The beasts

Wrapped delicately in human skin

Stalk the curving expanse

 

They are not us

But they are

 

Bellyful of fire

Rancid hate

Eyes glowing sanctamoniously

 

They are hunters

We have become prey

 

When the skin peels

Sloughs away

And they are naked

 

See what is below

It is not us

 

They are gnarled blackness

Blood flowing from secret orfices

Stuffed with secret pain and rage

 

They are not us

Are they?

 

They descend, tear like wolves

Children from mothers

Life from breath, blood from brow

 

No, they are not us

Not anymore

 

Until they are waste also

Victims of their own zeal

No longer anything

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