they shamble past
moaning incoherently
backs bent by the
weight of past loss
clinging to agonies
slowly breaking them
into parodies of
the people they once
thought they were
unwilling to let go
still strangling the
light from past flames
unable to accept they
starved the oxygen
from infernos that
blazed across the sky

corpses seeking pity
incapable of moving
on from the scenes of
destruction they so
callously left behind
self appointed martyrs
so desperate for more
of what they let die
they will eschew truth
for a narrative to
paint them as noble
the blood of dreamers
dripping from hands
gnarled into claws
sheep in wolves clothing
bleating for sympathy

monsters brandishing the
sweetest smiles as they
stalk fresh prey with
honeyed words to hide
the maliciousness behind
their predatory gazes
perpetual victims who
change the rules to fit
whichever yarn they spin
as they stomp upon those
that tried to lift them up
using emotion as weapons
while weaving webs of
false innocence to obscure
the parasites they truly are