Listen

How can i raise my voice
if my mouth is full of blood?
My tears are unnoticed because
i am nothing, nonexistent?

If a man takes away my innocence,
for fun and no reason, am i a whore?
If a man kills my brother because
how he tried to protect me, am i an accomplice?

Somebody lower your deaf ears
to the floor, listen to the cries of torment,
of those who don't eat, of those who don't sleep
because they don't know what might happen in their dreams.

I scream and an echo trembles and bumps into
the white, empty unavailable walls,
trapped because royalty does not listen
to the filthy, low cries of a peasant.

While blood runs on the street,
you are sitting on your thrones,
sipping your coffee, saying, lying
to yourselves "What a good ruler I am."