Shall We Rest In Purgatory Or Peace Poem by Alfred Barna

Separation
Longing for belonging
Hard wired; primed for a disaster
Just a flicker of hope, one confirmation
Bring us like moths flying to the flame
Driving us to dive, down ever faster
Engulfing us, and everything we touch
Charring us to ashes
Just to be blown by the wind
Our souls, the elite cashes
And profits yet again
Instinct thrown as a bone, run left; or run right
Though neither shall bring to you peace
Drums beating, begging you to join in the fight
As the snakes wrap your mortal coil, whisper to release
Those left alive, only left with a bitter taste
As we view the battlefield strewn with all a waste
The common man is a dog chasing our tails
Laugh the royalties whom gather to toasts
For when times are bad, yell war; it never fails
As for us we just bring on ever more boasts
Riling and stirring the masses to charge
Onward to bring your king riches and slaves
For my hubris needs land in which to grow so large
And place all opposition resting silently in graves