It seems that everybody’s fair game now.
In the town of Dnipro the other day
Their missiles claimed a two-year-old girl’s life.
And so we still have the moral high ground,
Until such time our side does something worse.
I want to have faith, believe there’s a God,
But was a decent man nailed to the cross
To make way for this dung heap of a world,
This foul dominion of the half-brick?
Round the corner, the hard men fill their boots
And dream of all the perks of après-guerre;
The howls of grieving from the family
A minor irritation, like cold soup.