The Cure
The days are counted with bullets,
bodies pile up like sand bags,
and the deluge of violence
is a flood Noah couldn't last.
Every day there is the thunder,
gun shots ring the breeze.
Another junkie has fallen,
addiction punished in spades.
The campaign is daily,
as the world watches on.
The people cheer rampage;
El Presidente crows like a cock.
The final cure for a disease,
humanity lost in a hail of lead.
Where is the empathy?
Can we not help the lost?
The monsters are at the helm;
the Abyss is staring back.
Addicts slaughtered like pigs
as we bear witness to their screams.
If this is the final solution,
what lunatics then are we?