Blacked out
In the backroom
Caught up in the vacuum
Of space
Needing space
Eternal grace
With a black eye
A ******* eye
A cringe worthy black eye
That will fade
In passing days
Thank who?
Blame who?
Not God
           for short memories
No sense of history
Common sense
            the oxymoron
Most vivid in its display
               of division
With the rubbing of one's arms
In some uncomfortable manner
An attempt to soothe
An ignorance
Be it yours or mine