there's a knock at the door

i look through the peep hole.

the line is long.

it wraps around the block.

it's the we're mad at you line.

and we

want an apology,

or an explanation for all

the things

you've done wrong.

for the way 

you live your life

like you don't care.

that's not fair when we're

struggling

from day to day with

everything.

you don't understand the pressure

we're under,

the challenges we face.

we've all had terrible childhoods

and we must be heard.

we can't stand your callous

and carefree air.

we demand some answers.

i signal the bowman

on the roof to fire at will

and to turn over the vats

of boiling oil, when ready.