The Victim Poem by Jamie Dewyer

The end of the world
And a siren left for my name
These reaches seething with
Fortune and with fame

Shame on our father’s fate
Hands scraping empty plate
American dreams and such
Poor probability




Wish you were here to waste
I like your empty taste
I like the way the world
Does not exist to you

Do you remember fear
What’s left is all that’s here
Till the encampment is
Burned to the ground

Remember you told me how
Words were the threat of now
Animals always must
Pay with their lives

Machina she settles for pain over overture
These little lessons mean nothing again