Your message is so empty,

That even the chinking echo

Inside the vessel,

Makes no sound.

Your need for exclusion,

Makes me boycott your noise.

I see no substance

Behind your styled hubris.

Your offering to belong

To a genetic class,

Might seem safe and warm

To the many scared of the few.

They might not see a past repeated,

That to be brave;

Is to walk through fear.

That to be free;

Is to accept the being

Of those that are.