There was a time when I wanted to write something
about the sickness of the world,
but then found that my timing was a bit too off,
and my spotlight already fading.
So I kept my smile and left the words unsaid,
an echo, running through my head.
Never did I want a chance to say them again.
Because today I was sick: with a cold, with the flu,
with the realization that my world
That people are finding every day more reasons
That the only way people feel they can avenge the innocent
is by condemning more.
I saw three words
that broke my heart in a million ways.
And I’m so afraid
that it’s going to take more than 366 poems,
or a million,
or an infinity…
to put it back together again.