We are cutting
Ties to our siblings,
Because imaginary lines
Dictate whose lives we should value,
Whose skin should get in,
What we should allow authorities in power to do to them,
This is the slippery slope,
That leads to the unspeakable deeds,
That leads to giving up souls,
For the sake of peace of mind via apathy,
And here we stand,
Where others before us swore we would never again go,
But here we are,
And all hands are red,
As we shuffle aimlessly wondering
What to do,
Trying to remember
What comes next.
What Comes Next
She of Letters 