| The nights ablaze with blue and red, blurs gliding silent.
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| As the first arrived on the scene, illuminating so vividly
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| The darkness of man, obscene.
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| The blood on his shirt staining darker
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| than that of the flashing red,
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| waving above his head a crimson branded beam;
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| an abused lover in the grass on her knees.
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| Pleading, cowering, trembling.
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| Observe the theatrics; |
| witness the play of man.
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| Anger, violence, and jealousy
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| are set to destroy all that we have.
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| We’ve turned our shame into rage.
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| Can’t you see it’s we who’ve set the stage?
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| Using a spade, meant to plow and sow, as a blade,
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| sharpened, held to our brother’s throat.
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| A child peeks her head out into the dark hallway.
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| The soft white of the night light shines somewhere behind.
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| She stepped out and began to pray
|
| Observe the theatrics; |
| witness the play of man.
|
| We’ve turned our shame into rage. |
| It’s we who’ve set the stage. |