they take you
they beat you
they mark you
imprison you

they kill mother
they kill father
and sister, and aunt
and uncle
and beautiful
and bright
and new
little baby
little brother

they gas you
they burn you
they use your ashes
to feed their fields
their rivers and swamps
they bury you
try to erase you
they hate you
for
just
being
you
as you survive
to spite them all

and then

they have the balls
to call you the monster
and wonder why
you get so defensive
when you’re screaming PTSD
made manifest in the world
carrying the weight
of a million would have beens
bourne bloody on your back
and into the future
a weight that cannot be shed