Stormy Septembers

The Industrial Prison Complex

I can’t even imagine.

The lives become numbers,

Out of sight, out of mind.

If we try hard enough

We can pretend

We can pretend that this is okay,

This is normal.

Necessary.

Eventually we believe it.

 

We convince ourselves that this 

Is what’s best for us all.

What other choice do we have?

We tell ourselves that this 

Is justice.

What else would we do?

 

Some try to shine a light

Put up a fight

Show some strange sliver of empathy

I’ve seen the look in a mothers eyes

Her son was a songwriter

Her son struggled with mental health

Her son was a prisoner

Her son is dead

 

We convince ourselves that this 

Is what’s best for us all

What other choice do we have?

We tell ourselves that this 

Is justice

What else would we do?

 

This is justice.

This just is.

 

We tell ourselves that

These people are criminals

These people are killers

These people are a threat

“Lock them away”, we cry




These people are homeless

These people are desperate

These people are addicts

These people are imprisoned

These people are victims of a vicious system

These people are dying

These people are dying

 

Beaten bodies

Bruised beginnings

Broken bones

Bloodied bandages

Breath

Breathe 

“We can’t breathe”, they cry

Lock them away

Lock them away, Lock them away, Lock them away.

They ask for help, we give them hell

 

Can’t we see how wrong this is?

This racist, sexist system,

The discrimination that we take for granted?

 

When millions have their undeniable rights denied

You know something’s wrong 

Except somehow we don’t know.

We don’t see.

Out of sight, out of mind

 

We convince ourselves that this 

Is what’s best for us all.

What other choice do we have?

We tell ourselves that this 

Is justice.

What else would we do?

 

But the question we should ask is:

How long can we go on like this?

How can more suffering fix anything?

 

Wake up.

Stand up.

Breathe.