Circle of dead children

The genocide machine

Circle of dead children
I can feel the earth's erratic pulsations below its filthy thick rippled
Foreskin
This feeling is far too comforting
The universe's largest assembly line working subconsciously towards the goal
Of global genocide
Will we ever have a chance to look back and laugh?
As a human i have succeeded in etching my own notch from the planet's scum
And failed in my effort for concern
As individual units we are the gears, the lubricants, the cables
As one we are the genocide machine
This feeling is far too comforting
Burn in soothing satisfaction
Burn in comfort
Burn the genocide machine
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