Martyrs

For those who demand attention.

A fatal shot in the stomach.

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I was one of those annoying people that protests in the streets,

demanding attention whether the next few minutes would end with violence,

or with peace.

I was one of those irritating young leaders that protested so that hate would cease.

 

I used to have no opinion, knew no fact, nor idea.

I traveled countries of Uzbekistan and South Korea,

walked the lands of Saudi Arabia, and Syria.

But never had I known the stories of these people.

Never had I wondered the pain and grief of every culture.

 

I never tried to understand how hate seperates these groups.

Even within each country, there's a fight, and falling troops.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fatal shot in the stomach.

I stood for a few seconds, shocked with what could have been prevented.

I could have lived prosperous,in a life I would've invented.  

But instead I chose to fight, not for the children I could have created.

I chose to fight for others, for their future--if only I waited.

 

I could be alive, but I chose the hard life.

 

As I lie dying on the ground, trampled by panicked people,

At least I know I died a martyr, alone but never feeble.