Vultures

I had a dream last night
We were all convened
At a church to meet and greet
And atone for all our crimes

We looked upon each other
Found no truths, no resolution
Wearing the faces of our youth
Every blink was a tactic
Every breath a war.

I have grown too tired
For these petty, pointless games
But they are always playing
With the same worn deck of cards.
Even in my dreams we are not friends
We are vultures.

We picked through the remains
Of a million conversations
Reciting our dead memories
Regurgitating dialogue

We fed upon each other
Found no peace, no satisfaction
Sharpening beaks upon the pews
Every offer a tactic
Every truce a war.

I have grown too tired
For these petty, pointless games
But they are always playing
With the same worn deck of cards.
Even in my dreams we are not friends
We are vultures.