Maybe I’ve been desensitized to their sufferings

Maybe I’ve watched enough desecrated bodies to not catalogue them as bodies anymore

It’s no big deal no more, they’re just a number to show


The land that was celebrated on spilled blood, still is

The land that was celebrated on public service has a me before anyone policy

The land we wanted for freedom of expression uses it to grieve


Grieve for the hundreds that die everyday

The mother that loses her child to corrupt mafias

The sister that loses her brother in target killing

Or the father who went to pray, only to have his own prayer offered


Grieve for the sleepless nights spent wondering if today would be the day sons don’t come home

The restless days thinking their daughters would be harassed

Or the adolescent that wakes up shivering thinking about the things that could go wrong

We grieve, it’s the one thing we know how to do so well we don’t even feel it anymore




This is the land they died to protect, left everything to get

The system of loot, plunder, rape and murder that started then has continued today

Years later, we’re still burying in mass graves, we’re still crying our lives away


Maybe that’s what freedom meant, funerals our way

The thousands that die, the countless that did

Maybe I’ve been desensitized to their sufferings,


Bombs blast, shots fired – What if they did?


Author: rajaakhan

Twenty. A body too young, A mind full of years. Nerds are cool; They make shit happen. "I would leave the cinema after the next-to-the-last-song, and the film would just go on forever. Isn't it wonderful?" - Selma, Dancer in the Dark. Don't take me too seriously; Even I don't.

3 thoughts on “Desensitized”

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