Mistakes were made.
Critics were stilled.
Bribes were paid.
People were killed.


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Copyr­ight 2025 by Jon Corelis

joncorelis.com

If love had the power to heal,
I would press these lips against your flesh,
kissing away your wounds.
So that you could become the mantis and devour me anyway.

He had wings that
gave him flight.
The sun was
beautiful and bright.
It melted into the ocean.

But there is danger in
flying too low as well,
just ask the mermaids in
the depths of hell.
The seawater screws
up the lift.

Fly to safety and
peace,
not the
fantastical or
far-fetched.
You don't need to
have it all.
Beware of

too

much



ambition.

The news is a c#%&
That son of a b@#$!
They don't give a f$%!
about talking s&#@
That girl is a s!@$
and that dude's a d!@&
But I blame this boll@&$s
On tabloid pr!@&s

I was just a little girl
Watching chaos unravel, helplessly
Confusion became a daily routine
Silence, my only defense
And I honed the art of observing pain.

Day by day
I saved up pieces of disappointment
Until the jar began to crack
Spilling exhaustion
Hardening into quiet rebellion
Sharpening into well-trained disgust.

We stopped looking, even beneath the bed
Where is the sorry we deserved?
Where is the responsibility you clung to so tightly?
Where is all the change you once promised?

But whatever
You're here, technically
And us?
We've mastered the art of needing nothing from you.