How many of you
Only look like you’re standing
On the mountaintop?
There’s a shift in the wind—
Blood is in the air ,
The stench of oppression.
No, you aren’t on a victorious peak—
You’re actually drowning,
A silent martyr,
Thinking you’re doing what’s right.
But love,
You’re worth fighting for.
—
How many of you
Are actually
Drowning
Of your own accord?