The most supreme is death

We bray like donkeys at the funeral,
relief sounding like grief
all five stages completed
before you passed.
It’s not like you had a soul to begin with.
The din of apologetic murmurs
reverberates in my head
to mimic the acoustics of the old church.
The thirsty pray for some kind of respite:
Oh God
Oh God
Oh God
Why
Why
Why.
Those who have already drunk know better
than to ask such ignorant questions.
There is no reason for evil,
it merely exists.
There is no reason for hate,
it simply spreads
in formations that mutate
to the point of no return.
Tiki torches or orange flags,
we need neither to commemorate the death
of a man whose heart was so cracked
as a child,
he spent his life breaking others’.