I have filled, drop by drop, with your tiny agressions
your dismissiveness
your "alternate facts"
your "let's change the subject, this is too difficult for me"
This is difficult for you?
This is difficult for the man being crushed by the public servant
This is difficult for the child drinking and bathing in the pollution of industry
This is difficult for the youth languishing in prison,
with no past to be proud of and no future to dream about
These injuries I carry, day after day, week after week, year after year
But instead of helping me carry the load, you heap more on me
And I'm full. I can't take one more drop of your callousness
not one more drop of your selfishness
not one more drop of your apathy
without bursting
