A poisoned chalice

and so beneath a Casablanca moon it began… no sooner did tranquility take it’s maiden breath bathing in the fleeting fragility of peace illuminate the weary faces of those still blessed with a sense of sanity while they, held their breath hoping, that maybe this time a poisoned chalice would pass them by and, as usual there would always be those twisted enough, willing to dance in the company of fools eagerly feasting upon agony and pain as they, await the crimson tide with dubious smiles until…finally, a cold-hearted axe, fell at random slaughtered the innocent all because some buffoon thought it was a good idea to speak his mind God help us all……