Complicit

When the strings are cut

Artwork By: Shain Parwiz

Mask it until you must break
that masque,
forever rid of its musk.

If you can.

---

Consume the pain
as curated veneer
while criticism, call-outs
commandeer your compass.

Disgusting.

---

Put makeup back on
so you can be made up,
and false.

Inane beside
what’s revealed.

Revolutions burn outside
while your life revolves
around games.

When action was needed,
you defaulted into
a marionette.

Pathetic.

---

I err to the side of truth,
a trail that trains
to turn turmoil
into your turbulence.

Hope?
That’s for the weak and feeble.
Weeks of their lies on loop,
so they can meet their targets.

That’s a call you make.
The cell towers won’t remember,
blocking you from
what counts as revolt.

---

There’s only one exit,
and none of it is comfort.
Confrontation of the culled,
leaving on currents as waves.

Actors.

---

Step in, stepped on,
because no one is coming for you.
This is where you’re stripped down,
strapped up,
shown the consequence
of your complicity.

Run if you want,
be warned:
the wanton disregard
is gone.

Once-useful strings are cut,
leaving you to flail
in your ruin.

---

Outlast your outlines
When the scenes end
Being seen becomes
The bastion of your own destruction

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Complicit

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Author’s Note:

Revolutions are burning.
Your curated pain won’t stop them.
Your call-out posts won’t save anyone.

You’re complicit.
And we see you.

-Shain