1000 sucker punch roses– a thousand stabs, a thousand have at ye,
and you won’t know and you won’t know
that it was you who caused the street
to narrow its dark slit into a scarlet stream.
Damn you(s)                            careened
from the gutted public.
Damn double damn, how dare you take this life?

You, mean men, mean and little blue men,
are marooned,
isolated            from compassion.

Your answers are vacant, empty seed pods.
Your excuses are thorny nods, blood shod.
Your curses are unmasked shame.

You feel threatened, because, deep-down,
you know you’re wrong.
The red carpet you laid is the pain,
and a problem wide-spread and long.


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