Grim in every socket
got no back up in my pocket
I am naked in a violent land
my once sharp mind
my stark right hand
do you still think
the pen is mighty
the man still runs things
check me, whitey
I suspect that
as a mass
we’re just a mindless
dumb morass
filling up our
shrinking pond
devouring every
tender frond
failed conservation
of our minds
soon replaced by physics’
brutal kind
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