When one can no longer seek for justice, when one has already dried up his tears and lost his voice shouting for help, when one can no longer complete a sentence or throw punches because of fear: **BE THEIR VOICE.

This war is not a cleanse,
Red is not the color of water*

He promised a bloodbath, he delivers
Blood in his hands, he waves
His men with guns, in rage
All those against him: a huge price they paid

and if you still think this is normal,
if you still think this is for the common good,
you
are part of the war
you are the weapon
you are the gun

the gun that killed innocent lives and called it "collateral damage", the gun that pushed cops to **** lives to meet their quota, the gun that went from one hand to another to another and was finally kept hidden by the man on the chair

"How well would you sleep tonight?"
"Brother, why do you have blood on your hands?"

paper and ink
that's all it takes
for someone
to be immortalized

You
and
I
are
Antonyms

Funny
I guess this heart
is a parking lot

Sometimes full,
often empty

Know what keeps you warm
and let it burn you

You're the handwritten love letter I will always treasure, but will never open again.