The murdered Dallas police officers have been laid to rest, with only the flowers to keep them company.

The caskets heaped with flowers stand so quietly at ease
The smell of roses hanging in the sweet and heavy air
The flowers say to those who kneel before them on their knees
That everyone encased in bronze insists it isn’t fair
That they should be the ones who pay the price for others’ sins
To which the flowers answer that when payback time comes due
And hatred and the blood-lust rises and the rage begins
You can’t expect that others die while sparing only you
The flowers bid you come in close , then whisper low and say
The roses claim it all began with such a gentle start
When government said government and taxpayers should pay
A bride price for the left behind to help them do their part
In making this the land of opportunity for all
And In so doing we must separate the very tribes
So that we may identify for whom we make the call
To whom we give what once was yours in forms of grants and bribes
The sweetpeas whispered softly in a voice but hardly heard
And said identity was trump and disenchantment grew
Among those who no longer took the rulers at their word
And soon the country found itself completely torn in two
As tribal hatred took the form of violence and crime
At which the lilies shrugged and said it’s coming to a head
The tribal wars increase and get more vicious over time
Which leads to us, the flowers, to accompany the dead
And so the caskets heaped with flowers steady grow in size
As Black Lives Matter calls for blood and calls for cops to die
Are answered in a summer night before our very eyes
With only wilted flowers left to tell the reason why