Tomorrow

How we never tire
 to celebrate the killers
  who carry our flags
   as they practice their craft.
How glad we are
 to last another day
  and not be slain
   by the falling sword.
How willing we are
 to build guns and bombs
  and hope we’re spared
   from bullets and blasts.
And how our mothers
 will mourn murdered sons
  then lay their curses
   upon our broken world.
How we’ll rise again tomorrow
 and stay this wretched path.