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Name the Pain

 




They came with laughter in their hands,

With hearts like lanterns, glowing bright,

To carve a moment out of time,

Beneath the stars, beneath the light.

 

A mother’s prayer, a lover’s gaze,

A child’s delight in winding roads,

A dreamer’s pause where silence sang—

All scattered now like fallen oaths.

 

A ring still warm upon a hand,

A father’s hand, now cold, let go—

Life torn away, so sudden, stark,

Mid-laughter’s rise, mid-lover’s kiss.

 

What law of man, what claim to cause,

Can stand where joy was laid so bare? 

What twisted creed could sanctify

The breaking of a breath so fair?

 

No faith commands this kind of fire,

No flag flies high on bloodied peace

This isn't faith, this isn’t right—

No God would bless this kind of fight.


So mourn we must, for lives now gone,

But vow we shall, with burning cry:

That never shall such horror reign,

These tears will cost you far.

 

This terror has a name, a creed—

Rooted in belief that feeds on fear,

A warped devotion, insecure,

That sees all difference as a war.


This isn't about hatred.

This is about truth.


This was no mere incident—

it was a sermon of supremacy,

a prayer that preached blood,

and we must answer it

not with blindness,

but with bold sight.

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