Bringing Mae Flowers

Sell our daughters into rapists’ beds

Send our sons to die in foreign lands

Blame the poor for their circumstance

Dance in your masquerade 

While the Red Death marks your grave.

Sell integrity for stock-holder shares

Send dead children thoughts and prayers

Blame immigrants for crimes that aren’t theirs

But the writings over your heart.

Your sins brand, a scarlet mark. 

You sold your soul for an inflated price,

Sent the innocent as your sacrifice 

Blamed others while you held the knife

There’s blood on your hands and crown.

The stains will never wash out.