Graves and hearts will be empty,
as they keep our corpses to hide behind.
They decorate with dishonesty
and plant pain in purity.
It never changes.
You arrive home,
dinner and discussion.
Your luxury is living,
untouched by untrust.
You have trust in those,
who vandalise the virtue,
of a world you pretend is equal.
It is always nothing to do with you,
especially because you insist on that.
Another stitch in the “All Lives Matter!” blanket,
which only covers those
who wish to cover their eyes.
There is no innocence in ignoring,
and no absolving in abstaining.