A...Hearses....Vengeful Fire Poem by James McLain

The ride started at the very beginning.
I ride waiting, I don't watch.I am to tired.
I clean up the worst of your messes.
What else can such pitiful creatures, do
to one another.
Once I looked forward to my visits, as would
any loving parent, yet, parent's should not be
able do this to each other, unless they were
never parent's.
I watched your parent's raise you.I know they
would have gone to jail based upon the known
hypocrisies flouted now.
It is always the case without exception, that the
executioner, jailer and such dwelling they within,
killed, falsely held, nightmares inside born to
inflict upon others.
One country so desensitized of itself has deluded
oneself into thinking,
that the maze of fences within thier mind, without
beginning, never an ending each year, asking me
to put the pieces of your children and family, back
together while they walk upon the bloody edges
in pink, for the men and black, for the women, silks
stocking, never dirty or soiled, yet changed much to
frequently as with the cargo that a hearse pursues.