je suis charlie

one hand is clenched in a fist
the other around my pen in which
the ink is coming out red
a color that has become foreign
to me in my complicity
i may not like what you say
but i’ll die for your right to say it
i’ve uttered these words 1000 times
but never truly knew the meaning
until a cold january night
as my mother flew away from me
and the radio gave me the news
i’ve know terror
watched buildings collapse
seen cities torn into war zones
but this time the tears were real
as my heart bled for the loss
of the liberty of the pen

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