Everyone has an opinion and it's political and sensational and everyone has something to say.
But what do we feel? What if we found ourselves in a darkened empty room, alone, no distractions, right after reading Chacounne's diary? What if we didn't know when we'd be able to leave that room?
American Eyes Struggle to Open
by Nightprowlkitty
Take me back
please, take me back
to when I thought I knew
a thing or two,
please take me back
before I knew
what I know now.
Please, oh please
give me a blanket of
cynicism to burrow under
it would be so easy,
such comfortable
and delicious
nihilism!
Life is so short!
nothing really matters all that much
and besides,
there's nothing new under
the sun, this has been
done before, it'll be done again,
tra la, here there is warmth
and sweet distractions,
a million distractions!
Please, please let my ears
be filled with bright voices
coming from made-up faces
who all appear under control,
with white tooth smiles
and silly questions
all talking over each other,
yeah, if they are so
well groomed and have papers
in front of them to read from,
well all must be ok, this
can't be that important!
Please, please let me hear
the hip politicos who know
it's all a big game and
so what if this or that person
got hurt, when haven't people gotten hurt?
and even now, all around the world
someone is getting hurt,
but we can find better leaders
and we can get some power,
that's the ticket!
and what's the use anyway
of crying over spilled blood?
Please stay away from me
you who know deeply,
who have known it since childhood,
with your wise eyes and
pitying glance, you see
my foolish horror and you
have known this for so long
it is something you have
been ignored for years over
whenever you tell the tale
and I ignored you too
after my obligatory
liberal anger.
Please stay away from me,
please don't tell me I must face this
Please because I can't, I read what
happened and I see pictures of
young men and even a young woman
and I heard there were children
and I can't see it even when I look
straight at it.
I am blind
with my own ignorance
howling over the tortured glimpse of
strength and courage
and humanity needed,
That I do not have,
I do not have!
Merely to see what little pieces of paper
have done, little pieces of paper
have scarred the souls
of all involved and all who see it,
all who know it.
Please let me be a foolish
hysterical woman and laugh at me
for my gullible horrors and then
I'll know it's not what I see,
It's an illusion, yes, the strong ones
know it's just one more thing
to see and not make a big fuss.
Just clean it up, do justice,
clean it up and do justice,
maybe with a fashionable
hard jawed anger that looks
sincere and strong,
and work hard to keep
from falling apart with the knowing.
As long as you keep them away from me,
the ones with the eyes that have seen
since long before I even had a thought,
I cannot bear to meet their eyes
with my own!
Mock me and
laugh, that will do,
a wonderful distraction!
but please, keep me
from those who have seen
and know my eyes
are not yet open.