Iprin Ghost

To death the inaccessible, the never-pleadable, start whispering, like shepherds in the fog, lost in their utter boundlessness. Stand and talk about the night. I know it can be done with a mutter, stand and listen to the walls crumbling, the projectiles detonating, windows shattering, showering you with broken glass. In all the cautions you were using, my friend, you failed to run downstairs, a veritable fount of hope undeserved. And now I must entertain your corpse lying motionless for days, until the sirens stop and the digging in the park begins. You do not hear sighs and laments of the people who suffer by virtue of your slaughter? Sleep my friend, in your dark cozy shelter, for the benefit of a nation.