Tragedy’s Lament

Once again the
mothers weep and
hide their children
safe to keep, as
talking heads, their
blood lust slaking,
vomit spin to
boost their ratings.
Lines are drawn and
trenches dredged as
pols fight for the
winning edge, and
fear and loathing set
the stage for
wayward zealots
venting rage.

We pride
ourselves as
civilized and
judge the
stranger with
our eyes, but
souls reside where
we can’t see, the
other’s not our
enemy. Remember
when you seek to
blame, under the
skin we are
the same.

kat ~ 12 June 2016


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