How many sorries?

A poem about being mad at the government

How many sorries will it take? How many will we get?
Until you realize what you’ve done and learn how to regret?
Until women can stop fearing men, and queers stop fearing death
And minorities don’t have to fight to not breathe their final breath?
Sticks and stones might break our bones, but your words will kill our souls.
The things you say might go away but some wounds never heal.
Your sorries can’t bring back the dead; how can you still not get that?
Your sorries aren’t end-all-be-alls if your followers still threat.
People are dying every day, how can you bat an eye?
And yet that damned star-spangled flag, you still so proudly fly.
…How many sorries will we get, until we can live free?
How many sorries will we get until it’s okay… to be?