Whose lifeless body will touch the earth,
not as another forgotten corpse,
but as the seed of a long-lost conscience,
breaking through this soil of indifference?
Every moment someone kills another,
with bullets, with bombs,
or crushed beneath their feet,
as if it were their right to do so.
From which womb are you born,
where humanity is never nurtured,
where hatred is the only inheritance,
and life matters only when it's your own?
Every year, we move forward,
but only by leaving our humanity behind.
Building new cities, chasing new dreams,
while filling our hearts with the smoke of war.
Justice lives only in hollow words,
change is pasted on fading posters,
and then we return to our own small worlds,
where no one matters beyond ourselves.
