Sit close
Listen with your soul
not just your ears
No book gets it right

You ask me,
Were you one of the good ones?
There are no good ones
Only those who bled slower

They’ll call it justice
A stand
A reckoning
A cleansing
Our last shot at salvation

They’ll dress it in slogans,
wrap it in flags
They’ll give us names
Patriots, Rebels,
Loyalists, Traitors
But all of them fall apart
when the guns begin to sing

Your uncle...
the one you never met...
he looked at me
eyes wide, afraid
But I didn’t care
He wore the wrong color
And that was that

Remember your grandfather
remember these hands,
how they shook,
how they never stopped shaking.

Don’t let them hand you a weapon
and call it purpose
Don’t swallow lies
and call it reason

There is nothing civil
about a civil war
Nothing brave
in killing your own
No valor
in tearing your country in two