They cower
as I stalk past
the power
that is mine at last.
They mutter hello
but don’t meet my eyes
and though I know
they muffle the cries.
The old, the weak
the sick and young
their prospects bleak
their songs unsung.
One small girl
comes up to try
and speak but all
she says is “why?”
Her parents sob
convinced she’ll die
but I kneel down to hand
that little girl
the end of
this lie.

