Bodies buried and lined in rows.

Graves marked with flags and flowered woes.

But after time, it’s plainly shown

that you’re a name who won’t be known.

If you’re lucky, a few will cry

and scream and yell right at the sky.

But still you rest in the dirt

no matter how much those people hurt.

In centuries more, no one will care,

And probably less with our climate affair.

Who fucking cares?

Just end it now

and stop taking up

all that fucking space.

It doesn’t matter.