It’s Not Complicated
It’s not complicated. It’s genocide. And the silence of those who could stop it is complicity.
A people can be genocided
on livestreams for over a year,
their homes turned to ash,
their children buried in silence,
their sky a canvas of fire—
and still, the world debates.
Complicated, they say,
making it so—
twisting words like barbed wire,
building walls of "context"
to shield themselves
from the weight of the truth.
It’s genocide.
It always has been.
No nuance is needed
to name the white phosphorus
falling like burning rain,
to see the schools turned to rubble,
the hospitals targeted
like some cruel joke
played on mercy itself.
What shocks most
isn’t the destruction—
we’ve seen this before,
over and over,
until the images blur—
but the apathy.
The scrolling past.
The willful turning away
as though to look
is to consent
to a burden too heavy.
It’s not complicated.
It’s genocide.
And the silence of those
who could stop it
is complicity,
a crime etched deeper
with every quiet day
that passes.
Let the world argue.
Let them wrap themselves
in the safety of words.
The truth burns,
but it’s there—
waiting for those
who dare to see.