You’re a concerned father who cares about the community

You’re a patriot who cares about unity

You’re doing it because you care

But are you really there?

With your emotion

Ocean of hatred,

Filled with propaganda, lies and slander

Because if you really about the kids

Did you beat your chest, did you protest

With Lucy Letby? Or Jimmy Saville? Or Gary Glitter?

Back then, where was your hate?

Tell me. I’ll wait.

And your rhetoric is ironic

As it isn’t patriotic

To loot shops

Destroy bus-stops

Injury thirty-plus cops

Claiming you care about your communities

And then burn down libraries

You’re angry, you’re scared

the government’s telling you lies

Luring you like flies into their spider’s web

And now you’re seeing red

But those three little girls are still going to be dead

And your fear, your flack

It’s not going to bring them back

Is it mass-immigration

That led to a generation ruled by alienation and misinformation

Or is it them up above,

Ruling, not out of love,

But ideology

Separating us by biology

The colour of our skin

Even when we’re all kin,

Creating fear of the other

Just another way to be divided by the elite

Wanting us to scream in the street

Tearing at each other’s throats

While they hide behind their castles and moats

And we fall into holes

Dug by Russian trolls

Losing their game

As refugees aren’t the ones to blame

White, black, brown, we’re all the same

With the same loves, fears and desires

Stoking the fires of the bourgeoisie,

Tearing apart our community

Smashing our unity

There’s no point to this violence,

I can no longer keep my silence

But maybe I’m just yelling into the void,

Like an annoyed SJW, screaming until my throat is hoarse

As we’re on a course of self-destruction

And I rhyme in cliché and platitude

With the attitude of a brain-dead liberal

Offering no real solution or revolution

But this division is not our absolution.

And what does that make me?

A poet? A hypocrite? Full of shit?

Speaking from my ivory tower like I have the power to make change

With my college vocabulary so I can get those claps and finger snaps

with no other motivation except for ego inflation

the validation of strangers on Instagram

Because my words don’t matter,

They’ll soon be forgotten

Lying rotten, buried and dead

Maybe you’ll forget everything I’ve said

But what you should remember are the three little girls who were killed

So, when I stop speaking

Don’t applause

Just pause

And remember

Bebe King, Alice Da Silvar Aguiar and Elsie Dot Stancombe

*Author’s notes*

This is about the recent Southport murders and the subsequent riots by all the “concerned fathers” and “patriots.”