A Peculiarly Perverse sort of Violence

Voting is a peculiarly perverse sort of violence.

We perpetrate incredible crimes against ourselves. Men who maim are not to be trusted or treated respectfully but reviled, buried and burned from the subtle sensibility of society.

We mourn the murdered, the raped and abused. We long for lives where scars of trauma no longer track down our arms. We long to heal, to hold our hearts in our hands and whisper soft that “nothing’s going to harm you”. We watch time tick from the past we survive to the future we conceive and we hope for no more pain, no more hurt, no more blood. And there has been blood. Oh yes, we have seen blood of our family in these crimes against humanity.

Today you talk of choosing who’s going to refuse my reality; my life, my love, my hope, my family and friends because your faith is in your self and not the scared man staring you down. I get a choice, a vote, a pencil mightier than the sword you can fall upon: “the will of the people”, your “mandate” to do whatever you want because you played the game better, grubbing for one above the line.

Voting is a peculiarly perverse sort of violence: the power to choose who will make us powerless.

Posted in: Blog

Written by David

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