The First Being Was Chaos

We only mourn our young for so long.

Not the year of meaningful conversation.

Won’t be next round, never was.

We bury our young and we fail again.

Two volumes: Loud. Angry.

Safety in your panic room, safety in hate .

Horrified of our neighbors, yet terrified of change.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Your misinterpreted rights or our lives?

We only mourn our young for so long.