poem 2nd draft

People must be bees. Given a role, and they follow it without thinking. Ask them to think they get angry, maybe even violent. While at the same time their refusal to think fills me with rage. Faced with poverty, having their job exported, and yet, they support the one that did this to them, like a battered wife who takes back the man that beat her, wanting to believe that the impossible has happened, that he has changed. It always turns out the same. Change is not part of the vocabulary. Change is not in the plan. This time change isn’t even in the campaign. I can’t tell them what to do, or yell at them for being so stupid. I can only let them make the mistake until they learn. I must not hate them, for I do not understand them. To hate them for that would to become them. Foreigners say they hate what America is doing, not Americans. Because they can’t understand why we do what we do. I wish I could go talk to these people, to try and understand why they do this. I can write about how stupid these people are, I can say why they should have done, but my cries cannot reach very far. And even if they could would it matter. Would people even listen. Since I don’t understand them, I have no idea. I just have to hope that they’ll start to think and what they have done, before its too late.