Sitting here, biting lips,

Trying not to say a word.

Cringing as the future unfolds,

One voice drowned by the din.

They know exactly what they do,

But it’s not what the cheering masses think.

Those who see it know,

We won’t be heard for now,

But we’ll end up cleaning the mess they make.

We can only hope realization isn’t too late.

Clean up on aisle eight!