Oh child,
they tell you that things
are not supposed to be this way
their sharp, keening voices
begging wildly for change
using little corpses as
leverage in a deal they
have become fiends
to make
Oh child,
yes, they are right;
this is not how it’s supposed
to be—redundancies that
should not be acceptable in
what we like to call
“modern society”
And yet, their agendas
float superficially above
the deep-seeded roots of
the problem
They will never dig
deep enough to find
a real solution for
you
After all, the blood-soaked
dirt sits on top and
that is where all the
worms feast
oblivious that they
will soon end up
as nutrition for
the crows that
dwell above
And you, sweet child
what shall we do with
your memory but to honor it
without annexing self-righteous
agendas to the glory
of your name