deepundergroundpoetry.com
Entry №3
I’ve seen friends go mad trying to fight these beasts.
I’ve seen comrades tear gas-blind, screaming at riot shields.
I’ve seen friends vanish into the psych wards and come back stitched together wrong.
I’ve seen kids in drag beaten by priests.
I’ve seen anarchists arrested for throwing a single rock,
while fascist militias march in broad daylight with iron crosses and icons held high.
At some point, you stop asking questions like
"Is it getting better?"
or
"Will voting change it?"
And you start asking different ones.
Darker ones.
Questions like:
“What do I have to become to end this?”
I don’t know the answer.
Not yet.
But the question has lodged itself in me.
Like a shard. Like a prophecy.
More soon.
Or not.
Sometimes I think these entries are being written for the person I haven’t become yet.
The one I’m afraid of.
The one I’m also… hoping for.
I’ve seen comrades tear gas-blind, screaming at riot shields.
I’ve seen friends vanish into the psych wards and come back stitched together wrong.
I’ve seen kids in drag beaten by priests.
I’ve seen anarchists arrested for throwing a single rock,
while fascist militias march in broad daylight with iron crosses and icons held high.
At some point, you stop asking questions like
"Is it getting better?"
or
"Will voting change it?"
And you start asking different ones.
Darker ones.
Questions like:
“What do I have to become to end this?”
I don’t know the answer.
Not yet.
But the question has lodged itself in me.
Like a shard. Like a prophecy.
More soon.
Or not.
Sometimes I think these entries are being written for the person I haven’t become yet.
The one I’m afraid of.
The one I’m also… hoping for.
Published 19th Apr 2025
| Edited 20th Apr 2025
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 45
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
