You are all part of my downfall,
smiling while you sharpen the knife.
I was chosen long before I spoke,
an easy target,
a sacrifice cheaper than silence.
My life doesn’t weigh anything in your scales,
it’s air, it’s dust,
a number you erase when the ink smudges.
And you know it,
you know how simple it is
to let me bleed for your borders,
your maps,
your crowns of rust.
I stand here, still,
not because I matter,
but because no one cared enough
to finish the work of erasing me.