S T O P _ feeling
Stop Feeling.
It's only children's bodies mangled and spread across a broken road of dreams.
Stop Feeling.
It's only acid rain of missiles of death machines.
Stop Feeling.
It's only mothers raped and dying in front of their children crying.
Stop Feeling.
It's only the media covering up the bloody truth and sharing a pleasant form of lying.
Stop Feeling.
But how can I stop when innocents are dying.
When the world is portraying the villains as victims and the victims as villains.
When society buys into a fabled, distorted view, a one sided vision.
Stop Feeling.
The rivers in Gaza are flowing innocent blood of youth.
The trees soak up the pain stained tears and grow truth.
And you tell me to stop feeling,
I think you should start feeling.
Start Feeling.
Smear away the propaganda infecting your eyes.
Unclog your brainwashed mind of lies.
Do you not see the uncle, brother, sister, mother?
As they lay, scattered in bits of pieces beyond reparation beside one another?
Start Feeling.
Do you see the oceans flood beyond the dams of strength in their tear ducts?
How an iron wall can fall instantly as a crumbled leaf in hands of destructive products?
Once an indestructible force disarmed in the stop of a heartbeat,
As a loved one becomes a fallen tree in defeat.
Start Feeling.
A blind eye you turn to a massacred forest.
Ignore the truth breathed out before they lay to rest.
Pretending to know what all is right and best.
Not noticing the ash of hopes burning in Gaza's (& Syria's) chest.
But maybe I am over-thinking.
Maybe their blood is a concoction of the lies we're drinking.
Maybe it's crazy to want peace and healing.
Maybe I should just Stop Feeling.
But let me tell you with each breath I breathe and each beat of my heart.
I will never stop feeling, but always continue to start.
