Hereby, I Cry

I speak not for power, nor pride in disguise,
But for the Earth, for the children with frightened eyes.
For the silence that screamed when no one replied,
For the truth that you buried, and the books you denied.

For the mothers unheard, for the breath that was choked,
For the treaties you tore, for the bridges you broke.
I come not with fury, but with memory’s flame—
To whisper the names that you covered in shame.

[Chorus]
Hereby I cry, in the name of the still,
Of the sacred, the silenced, the hearts you won’t kill.
Not to punish, not to preach, not to tear down the sky—
Just to speak what was true.
Hereby, I cry.

You crowned the cruel, gave the false your stage,
Called it “truth” when it trembled, “strength” when it raged.
You sold off the soil, made a brand of belief,
Preached “freedom” while peddling despair and deceit.

You mocked the meek, turned mercy to sin,
Put pride in a costume and fear in its grin.
But I come not to damn — just to testify,
That love was still here.
Hereby, I cry.

You crowned a man who mocked the scar,
Whose name sits in courtrooms, yet shines like a star.
You laughed with him — while others bled,
Called truth “too woke,” and justice “dead.”

He joked of touch like it was game,
While survivors bore the weight and shame.
But silence is not peace — it’s the cost we deny.
So in their name,
Hereby, I cry.

If decency paid like fame and spin,
He’d be the poorest man to ever win.
Bankrupt in soul, in truth, in grace —
But rich in smirks and courtroom face.

No vault could hold the debt he owes —
To women, to children, to winds that know.
If justice kept ledgers, if conscience could bill,
He’d owe the Earth a mountain still.

So if you hear this, may you hold it true —
Not just for me, but for what we undo.
For every child still learning the cost,
Of a world that forgets who and what it lost.

Hereby, I cry.