Sin's Place at the Table

You're invited to a party.

{c}They were all invited
To the party of the year.
All were so excited
To be silencing their fears.

Ignorance exalted,
The time was not for thinking.
Blood and tears were malted
And excellent for drinking.

The starving children swooned
Before limping from the dark.
They watched as the girls crooned
About an over-hyped lark.

“Hello, sir,” said the man.
He was speaking to a “friend.”
“So you’ve come from a ‘Stan.
Hope I’ll see your country’s end.”

Friendly insults like this
Floated about the dance floor.
No target was amiss,
Opened each infected sore.

When the party let out
Around two in the morning
Not one miserable lout
Hadn’t received his scorning.

They were a drunken lot
As they scurried from the house.
A few were left to rot,
Bleeding on some lady’s blouse.

It ended with a bang,
But that’s how it always starts.
And all the Watchers sang.
They could see into our hearts.