Bystander's Guilt - Dustin Vado

Sick to my stomach again.

On the precipice of vomit,
scratching for composure
questions unanswered, fodder
for a cement corner: an attempt at privacy.

Don't look at me.
Don't ask why, because you know.

Rivers of blood drown the playhouse,
shrieks of new widows swarm the air,
kids carried away by the strength
of a billion locusts; a wanton revenge.

Though I've never seen the rivers,
never felt the dropping tear of a babe seized,

I puke his name to the clouds
and light a candle in the wax.