The gold,
it beams,
despite the slaughter.

The people
adorned in blood,
wearing the polished essence of humanity,
animal skins on their bodies,
human blood around their necks,
crimson-
splashed on the wrists,
dripping from the ears.

They know not what they do.
This changes nothing.
It helps not, the children,
the parentless ones-
the innocence lost,
will always be gone-
and no one,
no one,
truly,
sees.