They Call Them Terrorists
She walks the streets in sorrow and anger and sympathy
She cannot claim empathy for she has never known the torment or terror of war
She grieves for what she sees on her safe little box
Pictures of bodies, living and dead
Some still move but are unable to claim life
They cannot process what they see except through the blood red lens of hatred
It’s easier to hate than to fear
Easier to hate than to cry
The rage washes over them in waves
Each larger and more intense than the last
Until a tsunami is formed
Overpowering everything in its wake
She feels the buildup of their suffering
Sees the look in their eyes
The intensity of their raw emotion weighs her down
She cries out in her mind
Stop The Killing! Stop It! Stop It!
Can’t you see their eyes
The tsunami is forming
Its height and breadth formidable
When at last it crashes a tiny new wave forms
And begins to grow
She cannot claim empathy for she has never known the torment or terror of war
She grieves for what she sees on her safe little box
Pictures of bodies, living and dead
Some still move but are unable to claim life
They cannot process what they see except through the blood red lens of hatred
It’s easier to hate than to fear
Easier to hate than to cry
The rage washes over them in waves
Each larger and more intense than the last
Until a tsunami is formed
Overpowering everything in its wake
She feels the buildup of their suffering
Sees the look in their eyes
The intensity of their raw emotion weighs her down
She cries out in her mind
Stop The Killing! Stop It! Stop It!
Can’t you see their eyes
The tsunami is forming
Its height and breadth formidable
When at last it crashes a tiny new wave forms
And begins to grow
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