White Crosses

Take away their free will.
They don't need it; they can't think.
But they would have.
White souls in the mud, whiter than water.
What could they have been?
This a doctor, this a martyr,
This a teacher, this a saint,
This a killer, this a thief.
It doesn't matter:
Each story is worth telling.
Perhaps they would become you
And commit suicide of the species
"For the good of all".
Are they not part of "all"?
Is not a cell alive?
Are not you alive?
Perhaps.
Glance now to the left and right,
See the rows of your muddy sins,
Lives that never breathed
Because of your stranglehold.
Wipe the blood from your hands,
Ask for it to be wiped from your soul.
Uproot a white cross, carry it,
For it is now yours.