Jo Cox

I must live out my days
Upon this weary earth
Bleary-eyed
Face-to-face
With the sod
Fumbling in the thorns
For a thing called love
My God! My God!
What moves you
If not a woman slaughtered
On the streets of daylight?
I feel ashamed
To call myself human
That in the dark tunnels of my mind
Lives a mole
So small, blind and worthless.