An Autopsy of Retribution

To get to the heart of the matter
You must take out a dagger and dig
And stab until the viscera splatters
From the corpse of the question at hand:
This cadaver of a country—
A dominion of the damned.
This unhoped for promised land
Where every throat is a sacrificial goat
Whom the gods of war command.
Is it far too late for forgiveness?
Probably so…it’s no good for business
As usual. An eye for an eye, O me O my:
What will you wear to the funeral?