Contemplation

They look to you with worry in their eyes.

They wonder why you’ve kept up the lie.

It failed, the notion of being singular, of the act of I.

And, yes. I look to Maggie when I speak of the nation that lead a vibration.

A pulse that would tear down the very foundations.

That young generation now old in it’s station.

Rotted up and bittersweet spat out it’s own contemplation.

The fear of the outside, ‘LET’S BRING BACK OUR GREAT NATION!’

As thousands more die.

 

They’ve kept you busy, what with the students, the doctors, the refugees.

And with your eyes turned in wonder…

They’ve ripped up, sold off, all of your pride.

They’ve drilled in to the earth, at her very core, searching for a price tag.

A gold mine.

A new source for life.

Fuck it if it means the end for all beings.

As long as there’s cash flowing through fingers and doors.

What else is there to live for? Get down on all fours.

 

Get busy with fear.

Get busy with hating.

So they can stop you from thinking, showing you care.

Compassion.

Humanity.

You’re right, why should we share?

It’s only children.

It’s only a mass of bodies and lies.

We’ll blame someone else.

We’ll look to the skies.

Anything to stop us from helping.

Being a community that spreads the worldwide.

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About Rebecca Windsor

I'm an actor and writer living in London. View all posts by Rebecca Windsor

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