Open black eyes, shine through.
I stare at the still frame,
I don’t even have your name.
They don’t see the need to give it,
It’s not your suffering I need to get,
But the many thousands you represent.
My eyes drift down to the next story.
About how our nation’s getting lazy.
Is it me or did the world get crazy?
Hosepipe bans and famous one night stands.
A man cries because he needs the surgeons hand,
He’s not fat enough to warrant a gastric band.
I go back to look at you.
What on earth did you do?
Holding the eyes of a television crew,
The pity of the world in your sight,
One rich donor can end your plight.
Or me. I could.
There’s cloth around your body, another covers your head.
They tell me that your child’s already dead.
Why? Was it something you said?
Because if not, if there’s no reason, then why isn’t it me instead?
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