our voice is passive,
yet we overturn rubble
to be heard.
We, the bullied,
shall be no more ignored
your flock
of mediocre, the average,
the unaborted
bleat sermons
to the good folk, the accounted.
The absent
are the focus of my rapture.
You will always be
tormented, yet your full
lips and lives hurt
like burning truths
or birds rehearsing stoic
throughout bullet bursts
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