The little worker ants,
Averted their eyes when the black vans stopped,
They ignored the men in black masks,
Pretended not to see their neighbors disappear.

It MIGHT of crossed their little minds,
To speak out or question, yet they never did.
For the orange clown was keeping them safe.

They smiled in satisfaction as their brains numbed,
From the propaganda of the TV.
It didn’t hurt them; they were safe, no concern here.

Then one day, an uncle or aunt or…
Went missing, then they thought to ask.
But fear kept the question hidden.