If you look back far enough
You can see the blood that has fallen from my soul and lies at your footsteps. It amazes me how you never see the massacre at your feet. You calmly walk over my history as you smile and walk hand in hand with your kin, as if the world were made for you. Take a moment and peer at the past, a past you thought was beautiful is built upon my blood. You seized my blood; it nurtured your growth, but you never looked back and thanked what fertilized your world. Why? You’ve created stories of glories never achieved, fame that inflamed, all to bury the truth of the past. A past of jealousy and fear so deep that it depraved the innocent of sustenance, yet their blood sustained your growth.
If you acknowledge my presence in you, does your glory diminish? The foundation of your existence lies in my death, my death grew you. You flourished with each drop, grew stronger, sought knowledge and truth, all from the bloodshed that lays your feet.
But whose truth do you seek?