Now or Never

What makes a deed selfish,

Or an action cruel?

Perhaps the need to stand out (It circles you),

It drives your madness — acceptance is not far.

Look at — in the mirror,

Snakeskin shoes, stilettos, toe pointed, drenched in red — souls.

Breathtakingly blaring and beautiful,

Worth every drop of tears, sweat, and blood —

But crimson lines the soles.

The puddled footprints marking trails of coal-stained cement,

Rimmed with the salt of children's dreams —

A drink every corporate enterprise eagerly consumes —

An ambrosia sickeningly sweet, only for the few.

Which tragedies precipitate change,

And what remains stagnant, etched into a pool of human histories?

Bystanders gawk — eyes, mouths, wallets wide. 

This is an apocalypse of our own making. 

Writer: Ava Melton-Meaux

Strike Out,

St. Louis