With the whole within us
We learn to act in parts
To mute our rainy days
To still our beating hearts
With the hole within us
We learn to shovel in
To cover up our scars
With papier-mâché skin
We tie our tongues with silver bows
And bow before our dead
We single out as voices grow
The lies our hearts have said
And in the mind of son and daughter
Lead ourselves into the slaughter
Moonlit Poetry 