The Cycle

If my words could be fashioned into a weapon, I would write a poem for each of my brothers on the other side of the world as a means of self defence against one false accusation to the next, to the constant failure to pass an "innocent appearance" test due to the misreadings of an ill-literate society that have been preset and extended to triggers that are pulled without an ounce of regret - but then; it seems that words have been deemed irrelevant and all that exists in this reality are the faint sounds of sirens, gunshots and protest cries that soon evaporate into memories, condensing into injustice until precipitating into yet another life lost all while the guilty hide under an umbrella of privallge - the cycle continues.