by Amber Miller
We do not recognize the mangled faces of the bodies we take as trophies
We do not hear the sounds of their tortured wailing as they flee for their lives
We are complicit in their deaths because we do nothing to stop it
No matter how much we want to believe we are/aren’t the servants
of a less violent world
Our children die the same and what can we offer but more guns and
more bullets in their backs
And more bombs and more heroin and more opioids and more lies
and more false hope
That’s it we’ll gaslight them all until corruption looks like truth and truth
looks like lies
We are mass murderers we are tools of destruction we are killing ourselves
and we don’t care
 |
We do not recognize the mangled faces of the bodies we take as trophies
We do not hear the sounds of their tortured wailing as they flee for their lives
We are complicit in their deaths because we do nothing to stop it
No matter how much we want to believe we are/aren’t the servants
of a less violent world
Our children die the same and what can we offer but more guns and
more bullets in their backs
And more bombs and more heroin and more opioids and more lies
and more false hope
That’s it we’ll gaslight them all until corruption looks like truth and truth
looks like lies
We are mass murderers we are tools of destruction we are killing ourselves
and we don’t care
Amber Miller has poetry and essays featured in Aois21 publishing, Making Queer History, TheNewVerse.News, Anti Heroin Chic, and SubverSions: a journal of feminist queries.
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