Pleading Mercy at the Gate of Hell

Where can we find our rest
When all we can lay our weary bodies on
Are pools of blood;
Bones of butchered compatriots;
And shattered memories
Of our loved ones
Pleading mercy at the gate of hell

Where can we find our rest
Amidst these hilarious honing and honking
Of dreadful wagons of war
The beaten, are looking for energy to breathe
Vanquishing soft targets
The vanquisher, aim only with Mechanical rhetorics

Where can we find our rest
When memories of torture, brute force
And blind bravery, winks and stares at us

So we find our rest
In the fat bulging belly of the earth
6 feet below, in confines of graves and caskets