Guilt, guilt guilt
oozes like blood
from my nose.
I observe
from the front row
marches
voices
raised
posters.
Guilt, anger anger
is everywhere.
Everyone
suddenly
goes political.
It is beautiful
and misguided
sometimes.
Anger, to the streets
to the streets!
More and more.
Thousands but one
this one being me
beached by the low
tide
enjoying the perks
of dry land
licked by the waves
never fully wet.
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