To the people who oh so positively believe in their right to rule over somebody else’s life.
Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and thought: who am I?
Have you ever looked in the world’s beautiful eye and watched it smiling back at you?
And tell me, have you ever seen yourself and seen one of the million, billion faces looking back at you in awe, waving and cheering and tell me,
have you ever even flinched for the ounce of a second when you then went to smash your fist into the fragile glass, breaking the surface and the souls of those who were patiently waiting for you on the other side of that mirror?
Have you ever looked back on the crying mother’s silhouette, sheding her tears as she lies on the grass, while she grieves over a child, cruelly taken away from her when it had just been born into a world of so much hatred, no one would ever care to look after it because you would rather punch it in the face with your words, your dirty syllables hitting its tiny fragile heart to the point where it’s shattered and pulled it into dark redemption?
Have you ever looked closely at the trees’ whispering leaves, dancing and giggling in the wind with the green of their blood, breathing and living to draw pretty, unconcious smiles onto the faces of those who walk by and now screaming, hurting all over because your blades cut their flesh until all of the beauty and all of the sounds became as numb and silent as the air that once used to be filled with their laughter?
Have you ever felt the pain of a couple getting told by others that they, who have always been ducking your speers and bullets, are now being forbidden a lifestyle who is and always has been a sin for those who share the same bodies and are now being shamed for wanting to provide a safe home for abandonned children, who are living their lives in homes withouth the love only a family heart could give? And tell me,
have you ever looked on the insides of the big, metal house, its walls reflecting eachother while they try to hide the fear and blood that once were splashed all over them, the voices of innocent beings getting ripped out of their throats until they bleed out all the love and life this sweet planet decided to give them only for you to then stomp on them with your feet, breaking their necks as if they were sticks only to hear the sound of them craking in your hands?
Who are you to tell someone else they are not a part of your home?
Who are you to decide with the bat of your eyelid what you kill and what you let live?
Who are you to forbid a child the wamrth and safety of a loving family, a beating heart being forced to stay in its cage because of your believes?
Who are you to cut open innocent beings, draining your hands in their blood and staining your money with the cruelty you try to sell to us as what we need? And tell me,
who are you to look into that mirror and pretend that your image is the only reflection of what is right and what is wrong?
Who are you, by Isa Radich, July 2016