Dead Kids
I carried a rifle through a desert. Dismissed the other as inhuman for their barbarism, their pederasty. Bacha bazi and beaten wives. Not in my AO. Not while I still had control.
And then I come home.
Pedos in charge. Kids shot in classrooms.
Now I sit in a generic suburban home. Armed, suspicious, and powerless. A cog in a machine generating wealth for technocrats and chomos.
The news cycle turns. More dead kids.
This is freedom. This is God’s plan.