Mammoth in the Monolith

Lena Diakite, 16

The vote of who if not all?
Clones controlled by one hive.
All the kin are skins.
Separation of thought, not heard of.
Those who have broken free, have done so unbeknownst to the master, it will be dragged back eventually.
The ones on the outs scream to the others, “The plantation has controlled you.”
It falls on deaf ears.
Though, there is general murmur of revolution.

They chose protest. March hand in hand to the border, signs raised, eyes tired.
Two groups of the same, here to wade through the same waltz, war through the same Wakanda.
There’s a mammoth in the monolith, a thing too wide to go around so it just stays.

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