The people have always been mad
but afraid to show it
or maybe they were unsure what their madness was
until someone came along
to give it a name.
The people sat in their homes and worried.
Husbands tormented wives
while wives made sure their husbands lived in hell
and children were taught that this is the way of things.
The people have been mad forever
and their madness drives all sorrow.
It screams inside their heads
that someone is coming to kill them
or take away their blessings.
It whispers to them on dark nights
of all the horrors their neighbors are surely doing.
It leaves small threatening notes on their dressers
or in the pockets of their clothing.
The madness begs for a leader,
demands it.
The madness craves direction
because it is fear
and fear is a confused child punching walls.
Make no mistake:
It is a killing madness.
Maybe it kills you,
maybe me,
maybe it only kills the mad.
Most likely it kills the weak and innocent
because the mad hate these people most of all.
And their rage is righteous and pure
It is flame and hammers.
It is reptilian and poison.
It is wasps in the brain.
It is all the hurt they have endured
and no capacity to understand.
And their rage knows no limit.
And no one
no one
will stand in their way
when they come for you.
We have seen this before.
Remember?
--Jeff Weddle
*taken from the book Citizen Relent, published by Unlikely Books*
No comments:
Post a Comment