POLITICAL Poem: Implications & Political Fictions, by Daniel Ross

Maybe pain is a solitary moment, or rather,
the ink for our perpetual story.

The coming of modernity has wrought
such intellectual cruelty,

where we claim they sent us, only to find fictions
and contradictions,

in lands mentally and physically penetrated by
stunning policies, replacing our identities.

And we chose to believe everything hawked
about building nations;

constructs of self-blinded philosophers,
creating lives more pitiless

and transitory, for the pleasure
of fame and fortune.

Thus, why, too, shall we have eyes?
Is what we saw still worth seeing?

When clearly the inkwell is brimming
with our own complicit blood.