Blood Into Ink (Make Them Think)

An Aspergian's Chemical Romance

There’s no savior here,

Glory

There’s no crusade against the cutthroats

or the gravediggers

no mercy for the abortion, no grace for the sinner

Glory, for who?

certainly not you

abuser and apostate

serving us pills to swallow

upon plates of bones

of mothers and daughters from frightened homes

thrown down from their worthy pedestal

the Mary in each of our lives, worthy

of divine treatment and a golden throne

but thieves and thorns cast a trap

and pluck them one by one

until they are left as beggars

dancers

or prisoners

each lot the same, yet worse in certain ways

and there’s always one more

to take the dead’s place

turning blood into ink

doesn’t do a ounce of justice

if it doesn’t make you think

so look at the women in your life

and offer them that

because they’re worth it

because they deserve it

because without them…

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