"In Pentaprismatic Reflection" #Poetry

In a pentaprismatic reflection
in which all has been reversed
the angels became demons
and all of them are cursed
They cry and weep and wail,
"This is cruel; it isn't fair"
but way deep down inside themselves
there's nothin' fuckin' there

All we ever need of war
we see in a kid lying on a beach
he lost his life far out at sea
and now those waters leach
the last vibrations from his body
that tiny little soul
grows large in his resting
but nought can make it whole

All those children have died
in some distant mystical sea
where they are so removed
from all that which is free
but so few come to help them
and so those children died
when they reached out with their arms
what else could they try

They could act for guns and money
and keep that vast maelstrom alive
but they flee for life amid that hell
so impossibly they strive
crossing the sea on rusting vessels
and ships which have no chance
they give everything they own
to enter that lethal dance

But many times it doesn't work;
they're left floating in the sea
but in the distorted reflection
they're as free as you and me
Now you ask why you're cursed
but the reason is quite clear
all the world turned upside-down
until you hold it near

- Colonel Arbuthnot Jones


Note:  I'm almost apologetic but it guts me seeing that kid and we're all cursed by the fact it happened.  Writing the poem doesn't absolve me; nothing will until it stops.