Your pockets are lined with gold,
Your hands are stained with red,
You haggle back and forth for weeks
While innocents fall dead.
Protected by “Christian” and “pro-life” brands,
By turning your back, there’s blood on your hands.
What happened to a human heart
That it cannot be pierced?
It must be made of granite,
Or of cowards’ worldly fears.
Our souls are torn in tatters, our values are in shards,
All because you will not change your greedy granite hearts.
You hold your seat of power;
Dead children are the price.
Those we trust to run our land
Bargain with human life.
You change the rules
But not the game–
Leave gaping holes,
It’s all the same.
You dismissed the executioner,
But the gallows tree still stands,
And souls are swingin’, second by second,
At their mothers’ hands.
by Nadia Michener