Numb & Ashamed

I stand there,
the words on the black rubber
a brief scan registering as injustice
the price, a death
but the detestable transaction 
is already over
bagged in thin plastic
taken out of the florescent lights
through the glass doors
& that is the end of it for me
as if I am a grocery store machine
scanning the price of a can of beans
or a jug of milk that expired a day ago,
or a bunch of bananas
and I am ashamed
that I do not feel moved
to speak, to write
to sit down and cry
to stand up and fight
against something I know
is utterly disgusting
why am I like this?
unfeeling eyes roaming their words
numb when I hear his name
deadened deep down
cold to touch
so what if it is not me or anyone I know?
so what if it it not my home, 
my streets,
my town?
Just as I know this is wrong,
I know I should care,
and I suppose I do,
as much as one cares
about an expired jug of milk.
where has my humanity gone?
I hate the void
the gaping black hole
right where my heart used to be
all the years of the news
sitting in front of the TV
on weekday evenings
eating refried beans
and bananas
the shootings, the bombings
the violence
the deaths
their deeds, snakes
I thought could never touch me
except now, they've turned my heart to stone
a monolith that only beats
itself up, when it cannot weep
for just another death on the news
and it groans and moans
wishing it could feel the blows
or crumble slightly
but yet,
the tears will not come