I get up,

Everyday,

As if the world is OK,

But there are travesties,

Hidden in plain sight.

There are bodies on the ground,

But I have to go grocery shopping;

There are mothers mourning their children,

But I have a presentation due at work.

This trend of brutality,

This pattern of bloodshed,

So ubiquitous,

Though we see it everywhere,

We do not truly see it.

And so my sorrow is also,

Ever-present,

Hidden in plain sight,

A raging, looming thing.

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