A Lack of Protest

And slowly we are all victims.
These reticent minds
of callow choices
and poorly built
arguments of straw.

The wind is coming.

We never chose these books
or words
or ink

I am afraid of people
that are afraid of
being afraid.
Don’t stand together with eyes closed
or apart with eyes opened.

The truth is a sieve
and all your yellow words
are seeping

My eyes water when the wind blows

and the wind blows.


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