The Treacherous And The Murderous Poem by Romella Kitchens

Such is life.
A season comes.A season goes.
Men and women as old as many of the trees sit in the cold, coy corners and plot cruelly against others when they should have grown wiser.
The wealthy live longer uninspired by each day but they live.
The poor note progress as soup, a sturdy stool.
No one studies what intelligent senators did to Caesar. Instead they stumble on through the dark corridors of device and callus plotting and, such is life.
Would that one human did not avenge the progress of the other as a deadly debt but they do.
Blood on man's hands simply an opportunity to apply soap and water, never the purity of morals...
Thus; things go on one season and violent deed after another -- hatred taught seed deep into the lineage of the inhumane succession after succession, noted and intended.
The Magpie carries on.
The Starling changes not its course.
The Carpenter Ant may pause to wonder why momentarily but then continues as he has much toil left to do.
Man never ceases.
Man never asks why the harm one of the other no matter how many or what hour of the Sun.