you’ll bite into the cyanide pill,
thinking you beat the crime.
when you awaken, officer,
you’ll be a child in a diaper
filled with shit in a hot room,
wailing for your mother
who never comes and
you’ll know why. every time
your border buddies pass
you by, another dirty kid,
you’ll know why. you’ll have
no choice; you’re not god
or the president.
