The trigger feels inviting

doesn’t it?

The parade passes your house,

and I get it, you’re afraid,

something inside you

that has always been there

hiding,

concealing itself under the thin mask

of respectability, cruelty, and hate

denied,

loathing and malice

rebuffed,

accusations of temper tantrums

rejected,

as you point your gun at the crowd

because you feel afraid…

…or is it real, this feeling of power

you imagine you had as you squeeze