Empty Martyrdom
we were shown
our value
was measured in blood
spilled out during
the sweltering heat
that makes us worth
nothing
when the day’s over
a tool discarded
until tomorrow’s doing
not in complaining
because that didn’t
make anyone happy
and showed weakness
the greatest sin
for blue-collar over
sunburned necks
movies tell us
that we’re not
to go out quietly
told to idolize
last stands
surrounded by the enemy
for distant ideas
honor
tradition
respect
society made sure
that a father and son
only knew each other
through languages
of violence, hard work, or death
we’ve got to sit in rooms
knowing our sins
created by our forefathers
perpetuated
to now
ancient toxic bonds
killing all of our
already tired and ragged souls
in rooms our fathers would not
let them break us apart
with the determination to change
so we can finally speak
as equals
instead of finding our end
sitting in a work truck
smelling of beer and sweat
in an empty parking lot
with a gun in our mouths
because we’ve been told
it’s better to take our own lives
when things get too bad
it’s what heroes do
6 thoughts on "Empty Martyrdom"
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True ❤️
(Also, I appreciate you using the content warning. I was thinking to myself “I don’t know why he thought he needed this…” right until the end, where it’s warranted. It almost made it hit me harder, which makes me glad I’d opted into it. Don’t know if this is helpful at all, but wanted to mention it.)
We’re not all healed or ready, and I have to make sure I keep that in mind. I was trying to be considerate. Thank you for your kind words!
A profound poem and I agree with Bronson about the content warning.
Dark and compelling.
This poem makes me think of the sins of negative influences coming from every direction…and how we fight those we can see, but some are hard to see. Also it makes me think how hard it is to step out from under the shadow of “toxic” oppressive and deadly thinking.
My first read of it felt scary, but then it also feels like a protest poem in a way. Thank you for tackling such a deep place in the struggle to be human.
The last line gave me chills. It was a punch in the gut, exactly as it should be for this poem.