Gaslight
Remember...
In Manhattan, there's a landmark
tucked among the busy streets,
a graveyard soaked with tragedy and tear.
And some who visit ask themselves
and brave 'til thought completes
on what it is that's truly buried there.
An icon of all that we are
once stood that very ground:
America the Good, the Great, and yet
in a short span of fifteen years
some sleepwalk to a sound,
a soft but clear, “forget... forget... forget...”
It's a mass grave stacked with Innocents.
It's a god-damned killing field.
It's our People, Towers, Country lost, and yet
those men who dance this world on strings,
in voice not quite concealed,
still whisper on, “forget... forget... forget...”
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Gaslight, Copyright © 2016 Papa Possum