Macbeth

If you could stop
rolling over for a
minute you would
see that your name
has been thrown
overtop of sins
done by those you
thought the world
of, but now that
you're absent from
such a world, hell
has decided to reign.

I stand beside six feet
of rust-coloured dirt
hoping that joining
your realm would
stop the anarchy,
caused by babes of
your making, weaned
and raised by your
hands, days from
the grave but still
using pacifiers to
help them sleep at
night--they destroy.

I wonder if you knew,
and chose ignorance,
or if you were ignorant
and never knew.