Grasping at Straws

Mon, 04/04/2016 - 23:08 -- kmoss

"We are all the same,"

they say.

They lie.

We are not the same,

you and I.

We are different, two sides

of one coin

And while they say,

"You are equal"

they mean

"I'm more equal"

They show this

with the blood of

the Innocent

the Unknowing

the Youth.

Another day passes

another "tragedy".

They bemoan this loss publicly

but behind closed doors

make a toast.

We are gullible,

Naïve.

We believe them,

until,

the next tragedy comes.

Again, they wail,

"Oh, how sad!"

Again, they make a toast,

a monument to their cleverness.

We are smarter now.

We know.

We Rally −

and we Fight.

It is not easy.

It is not safe.

But,

It must be done.

More time passes.

We move on, briefly

until again

an innocent is slain.

They say,

"He was a criminal!"

"He deserved it!"

"We did no wrong!"

We know the truth, now.

There is no safety.

No truth.

It's the last straw.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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