If speaking my truth is a crime, throw me to the lions.
Rome burns while you count numbers.
With affectation, you address the masses for nothing more
than validation.
On the streets of pain, another lamb kneels at the altar.
While in Gaza, the heavens open with pain.
Until the earth turns black and red.
Obsidian tears streaked red with the blood of the innocent.
In an alley, a homeless man wraps himself in a blanket
of newspapers in an attempt to shelter himself from the starkness of winter.
A poor substitute for a warm bed.
And all you can think about is how many “followers” you gained today.
Underneath the layers of our history, we are all human.
In a world of noise, why does no one listen to silent screams?
Unless, of course, they are both cursed and blessed to feel everything as deeply as I.
Copyright © 2025 Maggie Watson
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