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Creative storyteller with passion for art & connection. Portland, Oregon.

crying again over mutilated children (living in the USA)

i'm crying again over mutilated children

innocently living their lives

until their little bodies are destroyed by occupying forces

tiny arms in plastic bags, held dearly by their devastated parents.

I'm crying again over mutilated children,

conscripted into armies for wars they didn't choose to fight and won't benefit from if won,

their bodies sacrificed for someone else's money and power.

I'm crying again over mutilated children,

working for pennies with dangerous chemicals too risky for executives to handle without proper equipment and a sterile lab setting,

in service of the great god of capitalism.

i'm crying again over mutilated children,

a joke smeared on the walls next to their dead bodies in their own blood.

as if these weren't people with potential and dreams and hilarious little inside jokes their parents and friends will never hear again,

as if all this cruelty is hilarious, unserious, not even real.

i'm crying again over mutilated children,

imagining their fear as they cower, listening to the screams of their classmates and the echo of gunfire down the hallway of their school

fire drills used to scare me. I'd imagine watching the building burn, smoke billowing up into the sky, terrified of what would happen if a friend of mine or even somebody I didn't like was left behind.

i'm crying again over mutilated children,

mourning with their parents, their families,

and screaming about the senselessness of it all.

it's all preventable.

every one of these deaths, these horrific moments that happen daily, is preventable.

but when nobody in charge seems to care,

all we get are half-assed thoughts and prayers.

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