It is the mindless confusion with the fury like a beast that keeps our heart shifting; Tainted in the after glow, words need not spoken. The vulture had come to pick his meal squawking like a monster ripping away the flesh that sits maggoted and forgotten. One after another they all seem to find the victim. It is the youth that our vulture prays upon, defenseless and with out cause. Justification; need none. For it was The inner beast that glorified the sacrifice killings. Humble and wise I look up to him.