We call it an “action”
I call it an outlet
A lifesaver, an avenue for pouring out
My energy, my outrage, my conviction
that you must listen to us,
must hear our concerns or
face the dire consequences.
We don’t behead our leaders anymore
The bloodthirsty mob will be satiated
With just your figurative head on a platter
But it will feel the same to you,
Headless and unloved
after twenty odd years.