Patiently turning the crisp parchment,
Sipping on your herbal green chai,
From your Stafford China tea cup.
You blink and gracefully lick your lip.

Orlando gunman attacks gay club.

You nod, blink and cross your leg,
Sipping on your herbal green chai,
From your Stafford China tea cup.
Dab a tissue on your stained lip.

Beyond Aleppo, Syria's War Rages on With No End in Sight.

Your perfect accent makes that sound melodic,
Sipping on your herbal green chai,
From your Stafford China tea cup.
You move page to page, unmoved.

Woman raped in a city bus, murdered later.

Your sighs could move a mountain,
Sipping on your herbal green chai,
From your Stafford China tea cup.
You care about your China than them.

Page three holds your interest,
Until your child's ball makes contact with your cup.
A handprint's on his cheek now.
Nicely done, man. Kudos.

Printing machine.
Tak-tak-taka-taka-tak.
Bloodshed here and there.
From Syria to India.

Acid in my bloodstream, now.

Please, dab a tissue on your tainted heart,
Please, move your heart not the paper.
Please, care. This isn't sensationalism.

My tears flim over that newspaper,
I could row my boat away from this and you.
Throw away these newspapers,
Only to find them in our son's bedroom.

He's drawing away,
Changing the harsh realities with black,
I see me in there,
Rowing away from pain and sorrow.

To an alternate reality as the sun sets,
On my hopes and endless prayers.

-Sneha, @missalmostgrown.