The world feels like it’s cracking— not slowly, not quietly, but loud enough to wake the dead. Children are dying before they learn to read. Churches crumble under the weight of bombs meant to silence faith. Families are torn like paper in the wind, names erased before they’re ever known. And the ones who speak truth are hunted like it’s a crime to care. You ask me why I’m angry. Why I cry when the news plays like a horror film with no credits. Because bullets don’t discriminate like people do. They don’t ask for race, religion, gender, or guilt. They just take. And still, we argue over borders while hearts bleed on both sides. Still, we pretend it’s politics when it’s humanity begging to be seen. I don’t want to fight. I want to live in a world where compassion is louder than power. But right now, I write because silence feels like betrayal.