Victims

a dark unsympathetic poem about victims

Victims

A whisper across a crowded room
The promise demanded late at night
Neither survives the light of day
Neither thought it might

Made up stories made never real
Watered emotions we cannot render
We stand in streets with blinding steel
We made our love surrender

We are strongest when we are weak
We’re loudest when we do not answer
We live in a valley but dream a peak
Not singer or the dancer

Glassed-in houses surrounded by stones
We have no skin, we have no bones
Gassed in ovens we made our homes
We pray but we’re alone

Now thrown together on this funeral pyre
We fan the flames to make them higher
Is this sad or is this dire
We’re solo, then the choir