I knew a man who had a heart of gold.
He kept it in a mason jar
on a shelf.
He had cut it from the breast
of an angel.

He used to show me the knife
with which he had done
the deed.
He had made it from the shank-bone
of a demon.

He had many such hearts in many
such jars, lined up
on the shelf.
People were quite impressed
with his collection.

He was a man of great renown.
He was widely respected in
our community.
People loved the glitter and gold of
those angelic hearts.

The murdered angels meant nothing.
Winged bodies littering the streets
were not their concern.
The hearts had great buying power. That is what
they respected.

It didn't matter to them that angelic corpses
lay scattered
across the globe.
Or that such a man profited
from their deaths.

The hearts were in great demand.
Collectors of divine oddities would pay
a pretty penny.
Through such trade the man amassed
great wealth.

If you think such a thing is untrue,
if you think that evil does not profit from the suffering
of the good.
Then you are as blind as the staring eyes
of those murdered angels.