They cannot reach every corner
Nor will they try
There is no single-minded hero
To figure the whole thing out
It’s feet to the fire
My core is lava
Mindlessly stepping through a minefield
In the snow
Living or dying equates to the same
A headline buried beneath crumbs and spilt milk
Beneath hopeless counting stats
And self-congratulatory pats on the back
Beneath fingers pointed seeking someone to blame
Beneath billions thrown around like pocket money
As yesterday’s news is burnt for a modicum of warmth
Beneath the AKs used for extreme show and tell
Beneath the grandstanding over crimes and corruptions
Flaunted like nudity behind frosted glass
To disappear should mean more
Than being a simple piece of local intrigue
To be discussed at the coffee machine
Prior to dissecting the latest sports scores
It is too much to ask for anyone’s sorrow or anger
At the way in which my blood will be drained
It’s too much to see through the deluge
And ask those circling their own drains
To come to my aid
Nobody’s looking
Not really
There are those who are worried sick
And those who’ve given in and grieve already
Others cluelessly cavort
Unlikely to find even a light switch
In the dark
The tears will dry out
The shock numb down
Sirens whizz by to save other lives
Chalk one up for the win column
Tell ourselves we’re doing something right
I perch in the dirt waiting to find out
If this dude’s a sadist or a masochist.
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