Navigating heaps of tragedy.
Watching people bleed to get attention for the masses of dissension.
Tightening belt buckles from second hand stores.
Passing on the sidewalk
children, mothers poor.
Too tired to try
Too humble to cry
Wondering what it's like
When the last speck of will will die.
Clinging to questions about equality
Not prayers to win the lottery
Not just in words but deeds
With every plant began a seed.
Ideas are planted deep
in children when the road is steep.
I was that child who felt the struggle of those abroad and close.
Alive is the cry.
Our blood in the street
is the proof that they need.
Mobilized, immortalized
To martyrs a toast
and forever remain close
to our hearts until the end.
We will feel the beat
and march for peace
once you are avenged.
Dedicated to Q.S.
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