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For Your Amusement

Here’s a word. And here, another. And yet, a third.
Blood.  Death.  Pain.
Will you laugh at them?
You would if they were real.
Not “real” as in someone bleeding before you,
Not “real” as in someone dying in front of you,
Not “real” as in someone screaming in agony
There, right there, where you can’t ignore them.
But spoken of, word by word, face to face,
Would you be kind?
Would you hide your dismay, your apprehension,
 Behind a front of caring?
And that’s if you knew me, if you had reason to be kind.
Otherwise, it would become
Disbelief.  Astonishment.  Amusement.
At the angst. The emo… -ness? -icity?
The goth chic.
The fashion that outpaces vocabulary.
And what’s in fashion never matters.
Don’t ask what’s bleeding.
Don’t ask what’s dying.
Don’t ask what’s hurting.
If you don’t already know,
It doesn’t matter.
  

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