Newborns in ditches. Dead **** hidden
at the back of another big party line.

Here we go calling again.
Each other, whatever we want
we become.

We filled ourselves with poisons
of complaints after complaints filed,
yet we cannot change the way we respond
to injury, insult, or our own inner grieving
and fears. Trapping the young in straitjackets,
labels and using their good work
only to build better prisons
of self-destruction
for them.

We remain miseducated and lost
because we see our time and work
as mere instruments to be sold and bought,
instead of ways that can save lives
and set each other free.