We built monuments to generosity. Then sold tickets to enter. We named streets after heroes. Then stepped over the living. Every closed door— another excuse. Every empty plate— another statistic. Every sleeping body— another invisible citizen. Every silent witness— another accomplice. WHO DESERVES TO EAT? WHO DECIDES? WHO PROFITS? WHO DIES? Nothing is free anymore. Not warmth. Not shelter. Not mercy. Not dignity. Words dissolve into fragmented shouts. "Not my problem!" "They should work harder!" "We already gave enough!" The voices overlap until they become unintelligible. Nobody answers. If kindness dies— it dies by choice. If compassion fades— we buried it ourselves. If no one reaches out— every hand becomes a fist. History won't remember who balanced the books. History will remember who walked past while someone begged to stay alive.
