In Hell, the flames are rising;

Bodies lie, in respectful rows.

The dead are remembered, mourned;

As grieving begins, the missing are missed.

Borders, faith? It all means nothing;

Flags and fat commanders are a joke.

 

If one could define tragedy,

This is a tragedy.

And yet, what happens, happens.

The usual suspects dish out blame,

But few of us are free from blame.

What about the innocent, the victims?

Perhaps no one is innocent,

But many are victims.