We turn our backs on day-old news
For the suffering that’s trending
And we’re startled by the state of things
As if this story’s not unending
We’re shocked by the injustice
But it’s perpetually the norm
Chasing every shiny conflict
Tracking down the next big storm
We’re fed lollipops and bandaids
To placate hollow tears
And handed fictional monsters
To be the focus of our fears
Everything can be a cause
If it’s shouted loud enough
But who is ever going to hear
The softest, lowest, quietest
Most hushed
Most downtrodden
Most IMPORTANT voice
Above all their trifling guff?
Aly Writes 