When

When the hangman greets you

I feel the fibers of the rope

just as real

as the nails I feel

when they crucify you.

I feel the heat

as your village burns

and when your mother is hit

by a stray bullet,

my heart breaks.

When your child becomes

collateral damage

my world is shattered.

Every time you become a statistic

I lose more of my soul

and feel the rope tighten

as hope slips away

 

 

 

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel.
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