Sanctified Dead

Their wisdom was in words,
Their riches from hearts bled,
So they stole from the living,
Then prayed for their dead.
Their joy was in their sorrow,
Their love had turned to dread,
So they burnt the house down,
Then prayed for their dead.
Their comfort was in turmoil,
They drank from tears they shed,
So they shot all the children,
Then prayed for their dead.
Their wealth was of the blood,
That paved the streets bright red,
So they hacked all the youth,
Then prayed for their dead.
Their weakness was their strength,
The strength that anger bread,
So they raped all the women,
Then prayed for their dead.
Alone a child is crying,
Pregnant with words unsaid,
Unable to form the words,
To pray for his dead.

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