It was more than two weeks later
and they were asking me, "How did you feel?"
When I was crying into the last of my tissues
did anyone ask then, when it mattered
when I gave a shit?
Never an utterance until fifteen minutes
before we would all meet to rehash it,
ask if we'd do anything different.
When he asked me in that dismissive
unqualified tone, on the day in question,
if he should bring everyone in
one by one to ask what they heard
I saw I was speaking to an empty shell
a person who would never see himself
as the outline of a man he is, and yet the
heartless, soulless, faceless, wins every time.
The ignorant run free, make mistakes
and never take the blame, expose themselves
to humility, but want to squeeze it out of me
like I'm a ketchup bottle they've turned
upside down, when I am already bleeding out
dripping onto the floor, and of course
they're colorblind.
How can he see me when he has no idea
what he's looking at?
It speaks up, so it must be an enemy.
It lashes out at injustice
the very injustice he and those alike
perpetrate. I cried at my desk because
I know this is the world I'm living in.
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