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Don’t Talk to Me About Justice


Don’t talk to me about justice
Hot blood of the living gushes through the streets
And leaves them dead
Leaves us living
Looking on the ruins of ruins
Imagining what can be
Trying not to imagine what could have been

What could have been?
That man
His love
His children
That life
That house
That tree
Don’t talk to me about justice

Eyes closed, you spread your arms out and feel your freedom
Not mine
Not his
Don’t talk to me about justice and truth
You know nothing of it
Blindsided, you see your freedom, your truth
While he dies
He dies!
Can’t you hear me?!
Don’t talk to me about justice

Those of us that survive will live with the dead
Hot blood of the living gushes through our veins
Because if there’s nothing to die for, there is nothing to live for
What are you living for?
Was it worth it?
Was your justice sweet?
Was your truth redeeming?

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