Colin F. Jones


This is the way it is; this is who we are.
Killing is one of the points of our human Star.
We defend more ferociously than we attack,
And become the animal when we do lack
Respect for the foe who drags us far
Back to the primitive essence of what we are.
We are not Angels; the self portraits we paint,
One day a killer; another day a Saint!
We are what are needed to survive
And we will resort to anything to stay alive.
It is always sin whatever we do,
To the illusionary thoughts of the goodly few,
Who have never been in that foreign place,
And faced the wrath of their own disgrace.