
“i didn’t
disagree—
surely, you see,
that my silence
didn’t mean i don’t
agree.”
sorry,
it is hard
for me to see how—
when I’m being used,
misused and abused,
disregarded and disrespected
before your own two eyes,
verbally stripped down in earshot—
that your sustained silence,
sleepless and systemic,
means you’ve ever
agreed.
that’s just more seed—
scatological scatter
to plant more weeds—
while ignoring the deeds
done to this one,
who also has
human needs.
POET’S NOTE:
Part of Truth, Applied collection.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.



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