You have become worms
living like cowards in the darkness
or sparrows brother, always aflutter
or like clams, always closed;
fish who cannot see the ocean for the water.
You are not a dozen
nay; you are millions
Yet like sheep you run
when your keeper raises his staff
his dogs nipping at your heels
going where you are bid
and when all of us are bruised,
tired, covered in blood,
crushed grapes from the vine
the fault will be yours.
I can hardly
to say it fellow citizens,
but the fault will mostly be yours.