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Lost senses.

Lost senses.


I find every war without a meaning 

Even the most precise target-killing-only, 

Let alone those in which civilians are targets.


For every injured, a drop of humankind blood.

A tear for every mother without her kid. 


Where is humanity?

Where is empathy?

How can you take one, two, ten

thousand lives and go to sleep?


In your bed, I hope those ghosts will haunt you forever.

I curse you with sleepless nights in the anguish.


To my children I say: 

If you reply to an injustice with violence, you’re automatically in the wrong.


Nations are not bodies. 

Land is not yourself, is not your consciousness.

Boundaries are not your skin. 

Arbitrary decisions about private properties,

Fruits of arrogance, and violence.

Money, Opulence, and Greediness, Power at the foundation of  any war.

Soldier, why do you not see it?

Why do you not refuse to push the trigger?

Against your children, against your brothers and your sisters, 

You’re slaughtering them.


-


Why are you killing me?

And you, why are you watching and not negotiating? Why are you not screaming? Why are you not helping? Why are you not holding him? Stop him.


Too much to bear,

There is no meaning to atrocity

Senses are not to be found.

Catalepsy until forgiveness.


Until we’ll relieve our silences, impotence, and stillness. 

Twice killers.



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