To What End?

To what end,

Do the bullets pierce;

The unsuspecting,

The innocent hearts,

Blood upon the temple walls.

To what end,

Such hatred stems;

The children lie

In heaps, unthinking

Trapped souls

Rent of life by the soulless.

To what end,

Does hell accept so many

But heaven accept so few;

You are no divine judge

Nor underworld magister

Yet you don cloak and scythe--

Wings and crooked halo.

To what end,

Does your hatred breed

Like maggots in your victims’ eyes.

May the faces of the grieving,

The dead swim in your mind

Drown you in bitter guilt

For you deserve no respite.