Tell me what this is about.
How can this be so?
31 deaths mean nothing to you.
Yes you give a pause and a tear,
but they are not real.
You brought a photographer along,
For your own gain.
From triple A to double A.
Best country in the world is thrown under a bus.
Where homeless and penniless,
But the green keeps flowing.
The second best country in the world is shedding blood on its own streets.
There flames growing,
leaping from cars to building,
people screaming in pain, being robbed by fakes, pretending to help.
Tell me what is this all about!
Why?
Why is this all happening.
None of it makes any sense.
The pain and suffering of those.
Why have you used those deaths to employ your own gain?
Why aren’t you crying for them?
Do you even care?
The pain of the green has mixed with the pain of the red.
Expanding over an Atlantic ocean.
Brothers and sisters dieing, not just in war in another country.
The streets run with blood, whether its green or red.
It’s not that of which we can understand.
Not what I can comprehend!
So tell me why!
Why do I have to cry for those that no one else will shed some salty water for?
Tell me why I have to sit and stare, as the greatest nations to hit this warm rocky planet have to fall before my eyes.
And all I can do is cry.
And watch as my brothers and sisters die in a war that is long forgotten.
As the green blood of this country is bleed out in a disoriented congress.
And fire ruined the best streets that I’ll never step on.
So I’ll stand and watch just like everyone else,
But I will be the only one that is crying on her knees,
Knowing there is nothing I can do….