anticipated silence.

I know it’s coming; maybe today, maybe tomorrow. After the loud of guns, the silenced tears will follow. Days start in outrage and end in signs painted in blood.

How many more martyrs need to exist before we no longer need marches, how many more mothers burying daughters and fathers mourning sons before we no longer anticipate violence in the fight for peace?

Cries for change are answered in new hashtags, we move from bleeding souls to physical massacres. Every day is a clash over minerals or pigments, young souls ripped from their innocence and victims begging for their rights, genocides and people waiting to die.

I know it’s coming, maybe today, maybe tomorrow. More genocide and people waiting to die, silenced and unheard.