Bloody Lips

Bloody lips,
and that tarnished helmet,
tilted so.
Obscuring your features.
Staid and emotionless
while we gawk
in sincere shrieks
of terror,
and mortification.
There are no laws of justification
in this unjust paradigm
we brazenly call ours,
as if entitled
to possession,
and frivolity.
“Where’s the harm
in bloody lips,”
I say?