WORDED.ART

We, the hand,
We, the axe.
We, the rot,
We, the flesh.
We, creators of all ism’s,
We, moral contradictions
We, self-proclaimed roots
Of all good, of all evil —
Who the fuck
Do we believe
We are.

Our fathers, our mothers,
In heaven, on earth,
Long since reduced to ashes,
Buried in dirt —
Their flawed ideology
Surviving mortality,
The worst of humanity
Burns in us still.

We, the people.

@yonar on Twitter