What Am I?

Screams are my fuel.

Pain is my joy.

I smiled as I watched them burn.

And howled with laughter as I watched their heads churn,

With their thoughts:

Why does no one stop me?

Is there no one left who cares?

I giggled with the realization:

No one actually can.

As soon as I'm defeated,

I arise again and again.

I darken peoples' spirits.

Slash their fickle brains to mush.

My favorite are the young children.

Whose bones I desire to crush.

I swept through Germany like a plague;

Killing everyone daring to oppress me.

I destroyed Rwanda's youth.

Quick work though it may be.

And now I'm in Darfur;

So many of its people I have lovingly slew.

The funny thing is,

There is absolutely nothing that anyone can do.

I bathe in blood.

Misery is my hair.

My bones are broken spirits.

My clothes, mountains of tears.

They cool me down you see,

For if anyone could truly detect me,

Straight to Hell is where I would most definitely be sent to be.

Have you guessed yet?

Can't you see what I am?

I am genocide.

And if I were you; I would most certainly hide.

Because you could be the next one who dies.