or this man i know with his
blind devotion to an
invisible god and his fear
of the niggers and the
fags and the jews

do i laugh at
what he says?

at who he is?

or maybe his hatreds are
nothing more than
a distorted reflection of my own

maybe he’s only the monster
i can see myself becoming

my father reborn
or any of his friends
drunk and laughing on a
sunday afternoon fifteen years
before the missing girl is
even born and maybe
you’re the same

i will have us all condemned
this day is over

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