Whilst dancing with the Devil in the pale moonlight,
something most egregious and disquieting captured my sight.

Dazzling displays of the obscenely ordinary,
movements that have been deathly retread,
routines so unhealthy, no one could scream.

Trillions of times, boarding the plane
bound to fate of a tragedy so famed
They know it will always happen,
it'll always be the same.

Four in the morning, two in the noon, three in the evening, zero at night;

The end is written in cold steely stone.
This, as a person I must attempt to address,
the injustice of repeating the same historical mistake,
assure that the defeated can and will win...
But I can't save myself.