Watching it from my view,
Behind this scrim of armor
And weapon, blocked-out;
A bird striking the living-room
Window, they throw their
Problems and lives to you
For pity and a free resolution
“Mister! Fix it, Mister!”
“Habibi! Mister, money for the baby!”
Fix my life Mister – fix humanity
They only see the insides, not the glass.
Our eyes have grown deaf to it.
And as they inflict on themselves
Pain of varied forms, culturally
Acceptable here but nowhere really,
You are saddened by some void
Within, not because you empathize
But because you do not.