False poem

The great one by fate
Prompt will get stomped
And left for more deaths.

Lungs collapsed perhaps
Its last breaths. Taking
Within the culture that
May be awakening.

Looting are thieves
Never mistaking
Deaths from few
Beefs old and new.

Tensions will spill
Through intentions
Less few and few
Or more.

An uncivil civil
War too endure
When then unable
To maintain and
Uphold the function
Of governments.