Distortion

A poem for those in the thick of gaslighting

They slur their words
When they’re drunk with exploitation
No hint of shame to be found
In the tell of their inebriation

Their words a confession
Of the sins long fermenting
Until the truth spills out
Evidence of their conspiring
Not in words, but in deed
Crimes reveal much more about them
And far less about me

As if the “alien” is the problem
In the alienation of their own dignity
It must feel strange
To believe your own lies
Illuminating their gas in bad lighting
As they top off their own tank with belying

They will be the only ones to
Reject the history they rewrote
Because, we, certainly don’t

Author's Note

What has it felt like to wake up in a dictatorship?