Wandering through the chaos the battle has left,

We climb up a mountain of human flesh,

To a plateau of green grass, and green trees full of life.

A young figure sits still by a pool,

He's been stamped "Human Bacon" by some butchery tool.

(He is you)

Social Security took care of this lad.

We watch in reverence, as Narcissus is turned to a flower.



A flower