Graffiti

This is the night side
Make a go, here’s your loophole
If they see you
It’s another man down

“End…” says the graffiti
Someone was crushed
From finishing this sentence
Maybe I should take my turn

The queue on this line
Is a stretch of grief and pain
At the end of it a bloodied flag
“We die here today”

To be born a revolutionist
To be labelled in green and white
To become a false narrative
To become a date in October

Vera