A third of the way along, and
I have to wonder when the ceasefire will end
Or if it has already ended and
I have frown so accustomed to the voices
Of Smith and Wesson, of Ruger, and of Sig
That I no longer hear them as
They call to one another from afar,
Shouting out their responses to the
Putative Prince of Peace, in Whose Name
They stand forth proudly and
Spew their innards all around,
Leaving messes for others to clean because
They are, after all, only tools

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