The Price We Pay

I read a story once about black market weapons sales from Italy and into Iraq.

The story was written in a way that was meant to elicit shock and horror,  

but when the streets are red and the sky is black and the reality is reduced to marching characters in black and white print, who can feel the emotions anymore?

Is it shocking to know that alternate avenues of bloodletting are always an option in a world where people are dying, and crying, and lying in the dirt like refuse waiting for pickup?



Where a mother's tears mean nothing, not even a sidenote on news page?



Is it shocking to know that others see a monetary opportunity in death and annihalation?

There is no shame in bloodmoney

No glory in death


No victory in war


We all lose, die, cry and become history.
Social commentary is nothing more than words to fill space on empty airwaves. A tool to generate big dollars.

Opinions are vocal posturings by people sleeping safely in their beds.

There is a reality taking place in the home of a family tonight.

And someone is being paid in a pound of flesh.

While one mother sleeps with her child wrapped safely in her arms, another will get the news that her's was blown into unrecognizable spray on a foreign roadside.

All because someone wanted to line their greedy pockets. All because Allah, Blackwater, politicians, and weapons manufacturers needed to fatten their bottom line.

So they started a war that no one can win.

And we all pay the price in losses with no pricetag.

 If you have to ask the cost, you can't afford it.