We are the drug that has been used for our own destruction. Our rite of healing has been overturned and used as poision. We have ingested this poision and as a result we no longer bleed. Our enemies no longer laugh at us but stare in amusement as we laugh at ourselves. Have we not helped them complete their works? They flourish and we diminish, but oh why are we like them? A war is over when one side has defeated the other, but here there is no war and yet we shout "victory" as our enemies snicker without guilt. The nation sees an enemy as if it was looking out the window, oblivious to the arrow pointed at its back as the window is revealed to have been no window at all but a mirror all along. So have we been looking at ourselves for some time?
This poem is inspired by a poem called We wear the mask that is written by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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My country, the prostitute
PoetryWill you immerse yourself with hate untill you die? Wil you doom yourself when you were made to sustain life? If life was made in you then why are you raising death as if you gave birth to it? It is no longer them only at fault but you. My country...
