Semi-Daily Scribbles

One syllable to describe what is left of compassion. Humility. A thin-sliced memory. Bloody shreds of decency left scattered for the crows' feast. Monuments eventually crumble into pocket-sized souvenirs. Hold that shard of humanity close to the chest. Protect it with your last breath. The line forms to the left. Single file we head for the exit. Let this be our shared experience.