You lollop with equanimity over the graves of thousands, but you do not see them. You feast upon carrots and greens in the cool evenings, while below in the cool earth worms also set to the feast, yet your digestion is not troubled by them. Your orders are carried out by the silent brothers and sisters of the dead, in a charnel house above those whose tongues are stilled forever, and you speak not of them.

Did you think, o monster, that there would be no vengeance?

You resurrect my people and kill them again, as if they are children’s playthings. You are cruel, monster. It took days just to retrieve the bodies of the unjustly slain, and more days after to bury them. You care not, monster. We daily move about in a daze of pain and anguish. You laugh, monster.

I think, o monster, soon it will be our turn to laugh.