I am guilty of savoring the odors of your suffering from the world's
 spiritual smorgasborg.
When I put it to my tongue
I become guilty of crying
As if your suffering is my own.
You did not die to thrill me,
Frighten me,
Or make me appreciate my life.
You cannot even know me,
And you did not choose to suffer and die.
You did not die to purge me of my sins.
Your murderers contributed to my sin;
The sin of being a human being.
Should I thank you for showing me that all humans (including myself) are
 capable of committing any horror?
Had I completely swallowed this spicey morsal I've been tasting,
I doubt that I could continue to live.