By The sea

We live by the sea. All of us. But living by the sea, will be the death of us. Because between you and me and the addict in the tent and the drunkard down the street, in all God-given honesty it's our fault. It's the fault of those who vote for those that don't help cope. It's the misuse of free will to burn, to kill to smoke, to drink, to kill, to hurt. And that is our fault. Parents who pay no attention to their young. The same ones that then either themselves are, or lead others to be hung. Lead to hang by their own accord because some child was bored. Now that's our fault. The street clouded in a fog of fear, Floors of every building covered in beer, Every house hears a thud. One too loud to be an accident yet too familiar to be named. One that leads to needles and knives covered in blood left their waiting, harmless, untouched until your child makes it visible until it's too late. So yes, it's our fault. But we find the blame in the Sea's answer. We blame survivors she wrapped in waves, the salt-stung lives cast out by war, and delivered to our shore. To our home. Our home by the sea.